Time To Stop Running
by Dianne
Summary: Some kids run away and join the circus. John Gage ran away to be a fireman, and now as an adult his past rears up to clash with his present as he's stranded at an accident scene injured and alone and in need of rescue in more ways than one.
1. Chapter 1

For this story, the age requirement to join the L.A. County Fire Department will be set at twenty-one years of age. I thank o2bafirefighter for the inspiration for this story and the permission to further a plot. I do not know the Los Angeles area at all, I live in Canada so any geographical mistakes are mine. Other than a couple of one shots I'm new the Emergency fandom but find it's quite a mature fandom with a lot of good writers and I'm pleased to post a story among them. This story is AU and for the purpose of entertainment only and no copyright infringement is intended. Let the angst begin!

XXXX

John Gage picked up the items he and his partner Roy Desoto needed to restock the squad saying a quick goodbye to Dixie. As he loaded the items into the drug box Roy appeared with two cups of coffee.

"No doughnuts?" Gage asked.

"You don't need the sugar rush, Junior. We missed lunch and dinner but it'll be better for you to wait to eat something proper. We'll be at the station in no time."

Gage noticed the powdered sugar on the corner of his partner's chin.

"Um, Roy, you have some hypocrisy on your lip, let me just get that for you." Gage's index finger came away from Roy's chin with the powdery evidence.

"Busted. Okay, go get a doughnut, but you still have to eat your dinner."

Dixie stared after the young paramedic's retreating back and turned to Roy.

"If Kel or Joe or even I told him he had to eat all of his dinner we'd have been scoffed at. Of course no one has to tell Johnny to eat, he has two hollow legs."

"What can I say, kid looks up to me," Roy replied with a grin before getting serious. "You know, I swear if I didn't know better, Johnny's getting taller. He should be done his major growth spurts. At this rate, he's gonna be skinny as a rake. Joanne's noticed it too and she wants me to stash some snacks in the squad for him."

"Might not be a bad idea. You two don't eat regular meals and Johnny _i_s looking a bit thin." Dixie was just about to wonder aloud about whether Johnny was due for a physical when the young man approached looking pleased with a powdered doughnut, which he proceeded to dunk in his coffee and relish with enthusiasm as they walked away.

"Decaff," Roy mouthed to Dixie pointing at Johnny with a wink when he turned around to wave.

Back at Station fifty-one Mike Stoker put two warmed plates of his famous spaghetti in front of the two tired paramedics. It was late evening and most of the company was headed to bed early after knocking down a major warehouse fire and helping with the subsequent clean up.

"Heard you guys got two more calls after the fire," Mike said, sitting down with a glass of milk. Taking a long look at Gage, who was shovelling spaghetti into his mouth like it was going to be taken away and fed to the firehouse dog, Mike got up and poured another glass of milk and placed it in front of the dark haired paramedic. Gage never noticed or didn't care that Mike offered a choice of water, coffee or milk to Roy; he just downed the milk with a contended sigh.

Gage only nodded and kept chewing while Roy paused between bites and told Mike about their earlier calls. Gage cleared his plate and placed it in the sink. He excused himself to try to catch a nap before the inevitable next call would come to drag him out of bed.

Roy's eyes followed his partner. Johnny kicked off his boots, stooping to pick them up in mid stride without breaking a step. _Is it me or are Gage's pants getting shorter? Even without his shoes on, they're nearly at his ankle …_

"Something on your mind?" Stoker asked.

"Um, no, Johnny must've shrunk his uniform again. I better get on him to order a few new ones, we have quite a few inspections coming up."

XXXXXX

Johnny's feet ached. He quietly got into bed, and reached down to rub his painful arch. _I'm gonna need to order some new boots soon, these ones are too small_. And with that thought, he went to sleep. For five minutes.

The Klaxons went off just as Roy finished rinsing his plate. Cap took down information on a car over the cliff off Ocean View Drive.

Johnny quickly donned his boots and helmet and hopped into the squad after taking the slip of paper from Cap. He shook his head in sympathy for the other guys as the klaxons went off again before they pulled out of the station, calling engine fifty-one into action as well.

"Squad fifty-one, engine fifty-one, be advised that Ocean View Drive is obstructed by rock slides a quarter of a mile from your destination. Air support has been dispatched. Proceed as far as you can and wait for further instructions," came the voice of Sam Lanier from dispatch.

"Ten four," Gage returned.

A short time later, Roy slowed to a crawl as small rocks and debris rained down on the squad and huge boulders obstructed the two-lane roadway. A steep cliff below and above them seemed to birth projectiles of dagger sharp bits of smashed trees, rocks and dried, red mud. Turning around, even if that was an option would be impossible.

"Guess we'll have to hoof it to the victims," said the ever-willing Gage.

"You heard HQ, we wait for further instructions," Roy said firmly, though his will was with Gage. There was no telling how this delay would affect the outcome for the victims.

"Cap, can't you authorize me to hike over to the accident scene and at least check on what needs to be done?"

"Negative, Gage. Wait for further instructions."

Cap knew how hard it was for his paramedics in particular to wait to be put into action. All the men showed nervous tension on their faces and what amazed Cap the most was that not one of them thought of their own safety right now. There was always time for the 'what if's' after a job was completed.

Johnny slammed his fist down onto the dash in front of him. Roy was just about to try to talk him down before he used up all his adrenaline on frustration when the Handy Talkie crackled to life.

"Squad fifty one be advised that a helicopter is en route to your location. Air rescue one has established that there are no means for ground rescue.

When the helicopter came into view, Gage and Desoto secured their equipment into the stokes that was lowered first and ran back to the shelter of the squad as it was hoisted up. Two safety harnesses dangled next, waiting for a moment for a mad dash between rockslides.

Cap watched as the helicopter flew off and rounded the cliff side out of sight. A slight rain started. He scanned the sky, hoping a deluge wouldn't come and cause mudslides, and further complicate things. Such was the ironic prayers of firefighters who desperately needed the rain to squelch the forest fires but also needed the safety of clear vision and stable roads to make an effective rescue.

This rescue was to be a grab and run, which basically meant that live victims were to be extracted and removed from the scene quickly without medical intervention beforehand. Anyone already dead would be left for later when it was safe and the roadway was cleared.

Gage positioned himself so that his body was nearly leaning over the edge of the open helicopter doors peering down to see the car that had been carried over the cliff in the rockslides. He was securely tied off but it always made Roy's stomach queasy when his partner did that.

"I see it," Gage said calmly.

The car was perched on a precipice, front wheels teetering over the cliff ledge. From this height it was difficult to see how many occupants there were. It was midway down the cliff with mudslide activity above and below.

Johnny spoke just as Roy knew he would, telling everyone that since he was the lightest it was probably best if he went to do the initial investigation. Roy wanted to argue with his partner but there was no denying the obvious. He hated each and every time Johnny volunteered to take a risky rescue.

"Be careful Junior. Keep to the back of the car."

Johnny just looked at Roy in that _I got it, I got it_ sort of way and gave him a crooked smile that clearly masked the apprehension they both felt about the odds of finding anyone alive in that car.

The ground crunched and caved under Johnny's boots as the fine pebbles almost covered the tops before firm ground was underfoot. Johnny closed his eyes for a moment waiting for the rumbling from above to cease or more rocks to fall. It stopped. _Thank God_. The light rain hitting his helmet was only enough to annoy with a constant _tink tink tink _but did nothing yet to keep the dust from a month's worth of dry ground from pluming up to make him cough.

A woman was slumped against the steering wheel, lap belt the only thing holding her from rolling forward to the dash at the tilted angle Johnny could only now appreciate from this view. Leaning his body back but reaching his arm out he felt for a carotid pulse.

Johnny leaned back and grabbed his handy talkie.

"Roy, single occupant, female approximately twenty-seven years old. Vehicle is becoming dislodged, send stokes. Repeat, send stokes now."

"Johnny, I'll be right down with the stokes."

"Negative, Roy. The car's gonna go any minute. Just me landing here made it more unstable."

Roy knew Johnny was good at what he did. He had to trust the he was right and send the stokes and hope Johnny could manage without him. Bigger rocks began to tumble down the cliff from under the car. He watched helplessly as John's body stilled again, hands out as if walking a balance beam, eyes closed until the rumbling stopped. A fair sized boulder hit the passenger side of the car as John sped up his movements to get the woman out.

John gingerly cut the lap belt, holding his breath as the woman's unconscious form slipped forward. The car slid slightly and that's when he noticed that her foot was on the brake. He reached over and put the car into park for all the good it would do but right now, any help would be welcome.

There was nothing John could do but bravely step forward and pull the woman from the car. He opened the door, jaw set gingerly inch by agonizing inch. He hated having to grab her shoulders and haul her out into the stokes without spinal support but taking precautions like that would cost both their lives.

As the woman's head came in contact with the stokes she woke up whispering the words no fireman wants to hear.

"My baby. Did you get her?"

There wasn't even time to wipe the sweat from his brow that dripped from under his helmet. John finished strapping the woman in and gave the signal to begin reeling her in.

Roy's eyes followed, as he frowned. Why was his partner not readying himself for the trip up?

"I'll get her." John was glad that he could no longer see the woman's bloodied face as he made a promise he didn't know if he could keep.

The shifting of weight from the stokes caused the ground to rumble once again and the smell of gasoline from a leaking fuel line fanned in the wind that was picking up.

The handy talky crackled to life as the stokes disappeared into the helicopter but Johnny could have sworn he could hear his partner's frantic calls even through the air over the sound of chopper blades.

He took baby steps back toward the car. He hadn't seen a child when he first took a sweeping glance inside. Now that he knew what he was looking for among the twisted metal, a flap of woven basket peaked from under the passenger side dash on the floor. The bassinette was upside down, mostly buried between the pushed-in front seat and the floorboards. John pushed panic back down into his stomach. The baby wasn't visible, wasn't crying or making any noise at all.

Usually in gruelling situations like this when faced with something potentially heartbreaking, John would take a deep breath and do what one did with band aids, just rip it off quick and get it over with. But now, he dare hardly breathe, knowing any change in his stance could set off a major rockslide. The gas continued to pool around the front tires through a small indentation a boulder must have carved sometime earlier.

Now was the time for that big breath. John grabbed the lever for the front seat praying that he could budge it back to reclining mode and be able to grab the infant. _One, two, three _The seat popped back when he pushed it uphill with his other hand. In a second a baby's cries overrode the sound of his own heart in his ears and the _tink tink tink _of rain from his helmet.

John braced his feet as the car fell away from the baby clutched only by its tiny leg in Johns firm grasp. He almost released his precious bundle when a rock smacked into his shoulder sending bolts of pain up into his neck and head.

Panting and trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder, John stepped back from the edge while gently placing his hand under the baby's head and bringing her upright to lie against his chest. There was no time to check the baby over, he kept her protectively wrapped under his turnout coat as more debris dislodged from above them. It seemed to take the car an eternity to stop falling away and Gage was thankful that it landed without the spectacular Hollywood blow up.

Gage quickly improvised a way to get the baby safely up in the stokes with him. Just as she was swaddled and secured in his turnout coat he had just taken off, the helicopter jerked violently away from the ledge. The stokes ropes jerked from his hands slicing wide gashes across his palm. The stokes with the precious cargo swung crazily over the canyon as the helicopter was fought with for control.

John squinted against the blinding orange sunset that managed to peak from behind a low, still dripping cloud and nearly yelled in relief as the stokes was pulled into the helicopter. Once again, John was left to creep away from the ledge as best he could. He couldn't answer the handy talkie that was in his pocket. The momentary flash of dying sunlight faded and the _tink tink tink_ turned to thud thud thud as the rain and wind picked up. Once again, a fireman's irony, the rain was needed, not now, not here, the wind wasn't ever welcome on a rescue or a forest fire.

"Gage, I'm sorry," came the voice of Sam Stevens, the helicopter pilot. "We got hit in the rotor by a rock and were lucky to get control back. I can't risk another pass but hold on tight and we'll send someone right out."

John's back was firmly against the flat wall of the cliff as far away from the ledge as he could get before he took a deep breath.

"What's the condition of the victims?"

Roy pressed the button on his handy talkie, not liking the weak sound to his partner's voice. Static was all he got in return to his reply that he was stabilizing the mother and the baby was crying which was a good sign.

"Johnny, if you can hear me, we'll be back soon, hang tight."

Roy slammed his useless handy talky down and watched helplessly for a second as the figure of his partner became smaller and smaller the further away they flew. The land continued to grumble and shift below and above his abandoned partner. He turned his attention to his patients wishing he had another set of hands.

The baby continued to cry but seemed miraculously unhurt after a cursory examination.

"Give her to me, please," begged the female victim who identified herself as Catherine

Roy placed the child in the stokes next to her so she could see her and took a deep breath. It was hard to tell the woman that she was in no position to hold her child as she begged to. All he could do was relay her vitals to Rampart and try to sooth her for now.

Though Catherine was strapped down and couldn't actually turn her head, the helicopter's interior was small and it was apparent that her rescuer from the cliff was not present. Her eyes grew dark with worry and her heart sped up.

"Oh God. He's still down there isn't he?"

Roy leaned over Catherine much like his partner would have done in this situation.

"Now, don't worry about my partner. He's always joking that he's two-thirds mountain goat. He'll be fine, let's just get you and your little one to Rampart and get you looked after, okay?"

_Hang in there Junior_.

"But you guys saved us, if anything happened I'd feel awful."

It touched Roy that someone was thinking of the sacrifices they made. As much as Gage was a natural born climber and a brave man, he had to be scared right about now.

_This'll give Junior some fantastic stories to tell back at the station. _And with that thought Roy carried on.

The pilot radioed about the hit to the rotor so a team of mechanics and an ambulance was going to meet them at a shopping centre parking lot. They couldn't risk landing a potentially faulty helicopter near a hospital.

Roy strapped in and secured his patients as best as he could. The flashing lights of fire trucks and ambulances below were almost dizzying from the now dark skies. It was a flawless landing, however a bit bumpier than normal.

Dwyer and The Animal from another station took over for Roy after they got the full medical report on the victims.

Mike Stoker had somehow managed to get the engine back down the road before it became completely impassable further down from their previous location and met the chopper at the shopping centre. Cap was the first to reach Roy. The men heard about Gage being left behind but somehow all of their eyes searched the interior of the helicopter as if needing confirmation for themselves.

When the victims were extricated from the chopper, Roy hopped back in, not waiting for official orders. He was going after his partner. Now.

The mechanics were all over the chopper and when the pilot's shoulders slumped, Roy knew something was wrong. The pilot stuck his head into the cab of the helicopter.

"It's a no go. We have to wait for another chopper to go after Gage. The head mechanic won't clear this bird for takeoff."

Roy's mouth opened to protest but the pilot put his hand up. "Look, I get it. And we're going after him but we have to wait. If we get in this thing, it would be a suicide mission."

Cap's face appeared next.

"Desoto, come on, we'll get a cup of coffee while we wait on another chopper, okay?"

Roy slowly stepped from the helicopter, an image of Gage in his head growing smaller and smaller. _Was that blood on Johnny's shoulder or just mud? _

Thinking of the past and Gage's propensity for getting hurt, Roy spoke up, feeling guilty and useless.

"I think Gage was injured. He was still on his feet when we had to take off _abandon him _but I think he was struck by debris. I never got a chance to talk to him about it before I lost contact.

XXXX

John looked up the hill and down the hill. He wasn't one to wait for rescue like some damsel, besides, night had fallen and the temperature dropped dramatically. It had been an hour and no signs of rescue were in sight. He was wet and cold.

John cleared blood from the face of his watch to note that another half hour passed since he last checked. He tied his blue shirt around his shoulder as best he could one-handed but it soaked through and hung like a wet blanket making him shiver even more.

_Shivering is good_, the paramedic noted to himself. He wished he had some gear with him but as this was to be a grab and run there hadn't been time for that. Though he missed the warmth and security of his turnout coat, he was grateful to know the baby wrapped within its safety made it to the helicopter and hopefully survived. His hands stung and bled with rope burn from when the stokes suddenly pulled from them and he knew he'd be in trouble for taking off his gloves but he'd had to check for a pulse and with gloves there was no dexterity or feeling for that delicate diagnosis and there was no time to put them back on when situations on the cliff became more dire.

"S … sssss sorry, Cap, more paper work a … again," Gage said aloud as blood trickled down his neck to pool a bit at his collar bones. Being a paramedic was a bit of a curse at the moment because he knew that he was going to go into shock soon if he wasn't taken from this cliff. He continued to talk to himself.

"Th …. Think I'll forego the c … camping this vacation. Home is starting to sound pretty good about now."

Damn … no shivering John tried hard not to panic. It wasn't his thing. He was alright. He was always alright. Even when he wasn't alright.

Thinking straight was becoming a problem but he forced himself to focus, still talking aloud when he had the strength. His breaths came in tiny puffs of white as he turned his head. The steam from his breath surrounded a tiny folded flower that clung desperately to the surface of the rock in about an inch of mud. With each warm exhale the flower seemed fooled into believing that it was safe to open up. It was mesmerizing watching its tiny petals open and close.

And suddenly Chet's voice invaded his quiet moment. _Look, Gage, stop giving mouth to mouth to that flower and quit wasting time, will ya? _

Gage swung around. "Me fooling around, you're supposed to be thinking of a way to get me out of here, Kelly!"

There was no one there. John wiped a hand over his face and was shocked when it came away sweaty and clammy. The sudden spin sent him sprawling to the pebble filled rock shelf.

"Any time would be good guys. Now would be better."

But John knew the orders from headquarters forbade anyone from coming for him from Big Red out on the roadway because of the still falling rocks.

He waited for the world to stop spinning before pushing himself up with one arm. He would give them another twenty minutes. Already he was trying to piece a plan of action together.

_Okay, the road was blocked until about a half mile North. It's pretty much a straight climb to the top. It's not like I haven't done that before … Just not without ground support and partners and …_

John forgot he'd already tried his handy talkie three times; forgot that it was smashed, batteries nowhere to be seen. He felt foolish trying to call in. "Rampart, this is HT fifty-one, can I have an ETA on the chopper back to my location?" _Roy, it's me Johnny, please come get me … _

XXXX

As many times as Roy held the handy talkie to his mouth he knew Johnny would have answered if he could have.

"What's taking that replacement chopper so long?" Roy demanded.

"Bushfires to the North have them tied up mostly," explained the pilot as he watched the tension mount among the men of station fifty-one. "Look, I have a buddy who works for Universal Studios. They have a real working helicopter for that new detective show. If I explain the situation he might be willing to fly up. Guy's good too, he's a veteran.

Cap nodded his approval without waiting for Roy to ask and called in the information to headquarters once arrangements were made.

XXXX

The searchlight from the helicopter annoyed Roy as it dipped and rose in places, missing entire sections of jutting rock ledge in the vicinity of where they'd left his partner. On TV this sort of search looked easier and smoother, Gage should appear at any moment having written HELP ME with some miraculously identical white polished stones and in minutes he should be clinging to a rope being hauled up to safety as the credits rolled. Roy was sure he remembered the exact ledge Gage was stranded on but now they all looked the same, small, unstable and cold in the night air.

Twenty minutes stretched into thirty before Pilot Sam who was now sitting beside his pilot friend from Universal finally admitted that this mission was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Then get a magnet and find him," growled Roy, apologizing a second later. It wasn't Sam's fault.

The sheets of rain even hid the car that had plummeted to the bottom of the cliff, which could have at least given them a direction to look for Johnny.

XXXX

The searchlights had been scanning the rock face for a long time, or at lease Gage figured since he lost consciousness for short periods. The affects of hypothermia were beginning to have their way with him. His dexterity even in his good arm was diminishing, his breathing was shallow and he knew that being satisfied with the small amount of oxygen he was getting was a bad sign. Complacency was taking over. He was tired. Sleep beckoned in a friendly, warm way.

"NO!" _I can't do this. I can't sit here. _

Gage forced himself to his feet using the flat cold surface of the rock as support. The rock was scarcely colder than his skin. He waved his arm as best he could any time the light from the chopper got near him but each time the beam missed him. He slumped down.

When the chopper began to whirl its way off into the distance it took all the hope of rescue from John.

The rain got harder and seemed to fall sideways straight into his eyes. It mixed with the dust on his body and itched and caked. The mud was reddish, mixing with his blood that flowed down the crook of his elbow from his shoulder.

Thunder opened eyes that Johnny hadn't realized he'd closed, lightning assaulting his vision. Rocks tumbled adding to the roar of the fury of the storm. Without thinking, Gage looked up. Sweat and rain slid his helmet back and off his head. He didn't remember undoing the chinstrap earlier. The helmet went over the cliff. A rock cracked against his forehead, glancing off his temple before he could get his arms up. He cried out as he forced his good arm up, having no choice but to present the bad arm to the same torment of falling rocks to try to protect himself from further harm. He tasted blood.

When the rockslide quieted Gage was pushed from the rock face closer to the edge. Pebbles bit his knees and palms as he crawled back to the rock face. It was times like these that made the young paramedic question what he'd gotten himself into, times when his cocky façade faded and his past crept up to cause self doubt. He'd believed that someone would come for him so he hadn't set out for the shelter of an overhang that would have been difficult to get to two hours ago but was impossible now.

_See? I told you. You're too weak. You'll never do anything right. You'll always be nothing. _His stepfather's words stung him to his core at the same moment the skies opened up into a full deluge once again. He remembered the day he ran away from home, his stepfather throwing a loaf of bread and a glass jar of peanut butter at his head as he fled through the door with nothing but the clothes on his back. The jar cracked against his temple but loath though he was at taking the bread, he grabbed it up and ran. He was nearly fifteen, alone after his mother died two years previous and his step father took every opportunity to remind him that the property and house did not belong to him just because it had been in his real father's side of the family for generations before he died when John was nine.

"M'not nuthin'," John argued with thin air, pawing his hands through the air as though he could dispel the words that sliced his heart. "I … I … um … um …"

"_Ahhh, ah, ah, duh,"_ teased the voice of his stepfather. _"You're what? What are you?"_

John forced himself to breathe through his nose and let it out through his mouth slowly. His eyes closed and he counted to ten. Roy had caught him doing this many times but when he asked about it John always told him he was meditating or something equally as lame that he knew Roy didn't believe. It didn't work this time. There was no kind blue eyes staring into his calling him Junior and reminding him to come for dinner to dispel the cold words that haunted him still to this day, no nice apartment that he leased with his first real pay check from the Fire Department Of L.A. County, no Strayboy, his horse that he boarded for now at a ranch he went to on his days off. Nothing to prove he'd made it.

His fingers found the huge welt in the side of his head. He tried to quell the smell of peanut butter that nauseated him. _No, wait, that was years ago. I got hit by a rock, it's not the jar of peanut butter this time it's … _

He tried a few more times to quiet his ragged breathing knowing it would only make things worse. Complacency was replaced by anger as John dug his fingers into any small holes in the surface of the rock he could find, his toes following as his body shook as he climbed. If only Roy had been searching at that moment the ensuing small avalanche below him from his helmet would surely have been noticed.

But you didn't even think to throw a pebble off that cliff to alert them to your location … Must be just as much of a disappointment there as you were here.

"No, Sir, I just …" Why didn't I do something? "I … I …"

I … I ….I The voice mocked You'd best be getting used to mucking out barns for a living son, people who stutter don't get real jobs and I'm not paying for your sorry arse to stay around here sponging off me once you turn eighteen.

A piece of rock dissolved into gravel and mixed with the rain picking up mud under his feet. He contemplated how long it would take to fall. How many nanoseconds of pain would hit his nervous system before he was pulverized by the gravity of the fall and left as a blood splatter for some poor schmuck to find. He closed his eyes and held on even as fist sized rocks smacked off his collar bones as he dared to look up and lean out a bit to see how far it was to the top. Blood trickled down his chest and damned if he wasn't surprised it wasn't ice cold. He fought waves of nausea, his stomach roiling and threatening to choke him. His right eye twitched and it was all he could do not to take one of his hands from their precarious hold and rub it to make it stop. The world swayed crazily and he leaned his forehead against the cool rock.

His mother's face swam before his vision as he could almost feel a cold cloth placed on his forehead. If only it was real, the reason for the cold cloth notwithstanding, just to have seen her one last time was something he'd give anything for at this moment. She'd done this times out of count when John's stepfather was drunk and found fault with something John did or said, which was pretty much everything in his eyes including having been born. John's mother intended to leave the man who was supposed to step up to bat and be a father to her son like he promised but she was killed in a supposedly single vehicle accident after she made that plan clear.

"You … you … killed her … but you don't … don't get me." John climbed further, body screaming in protest at the abuse, fingers slipping, rock digging away cuticles to bleed and mix with the small stream rushing down the cliff.

You don't get me.

John climbed for all he was worth, which wasn't much as his stepfather's taunts reminded his concussed brain. His hands found the rock ledge just as lightning lit the sky and blinded him. For a second, his only thought was to let go. How could he face the guys back at the firehouse? Cap would have reams of paperwork because of John's injuries; he'd have to find a replacement. Roy would get stuck with Brice and Chet would have major ammunition to taunt him. He heaved his body over the top of the cliff where he lay panting in the darkness. Alone.

John fought the tremors that wracked his body in pain and searched his mind for the kind blue eyes that always found a way to make him feel better without commenting on the times when he fell back into stuttering until he could get it in check. Blood trickled down his face into his mouth as he gasped for breath from the exertion but he couldn't find the eyes; couldn't find the face; couldn't find anything. His future was swallowed.

Gage tried to get to his knees but another flash of lightning blinded him and dropped him back down to the ground in a puddle. He grasped his head, rolling to his side only in time to throw up. He rolled to his back, rainwater filling his mouth and nose. He was claimed by darkness with a vague regret that the puddle beneath him wasn't deep enough to drown in_._


	2. Chapter 2

Wind whispered through the sparse trees on the hillsides across the empty road and onto the edge of the cliff where John lay listening, wishing for silence so he could hear himself think. But that was the problem, he couldn't think. Light stung John's closed eyes scrunching his nose involuntarily. Pain blinded him when he chanced a look around.

"Whe … wh-where am I?" he stammered, reaching up to the large goose egg on his head, his hand coming away smeared in blood and mud.

Then it all slammed home. He'd run away. His stomach growled and he looked around vaguely for the loaf of bread.

_This isn't right …_

The sun rose warming him a bit. He looked down at his body. He didn't remember the pants or the white, well, stained tee shirt he was wearing but then again he'd had to steal a lot from clotheslines along the way to get to his aunt's house in California.

_California … okay …_

John looked around to get his bearings. He stood up too quickly, not remembering how hurt he was or how he'd gotten here. He searched his pockets. Nothing. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. He licked his lips but it provided no relief.

He heard about landslides in L.A. from letters from his aunt. This must be one. He searched the ground for his backpack that he bought with money from odd jobs he took while thumbing it out to California from Montana. It was nowhere to be seen. He kicked at the dirt in frustration stopping quickly when the mountain above gave an ominous rumble and vertigo threatened to let him plunge back over the cliff where claw marks in the mud stood testament to a climb he couldn't remember making. His whole body ached and begged to be allowed to succumb to the darkness that was calling, but he knew he had to get out of here.

Gage grabbed a small fallen tree to use as a walking stick to help him stay upright as he started down the road past the obstructions. He wished a car could travel this stretch; he could really use a ride about now. Looking down at his bloodied shoulder he knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to sit down again.

With each stumble or misstep his hand clutched the walking stick tighter sending jolts of pain shocking through his nervous system and up his entire torso. His vision greyed around the edges and narrowed. He knew if he sat down now he'd never get up.

_Give up. Face it, it'll be better for everyone_, the cruel voice that had taken up almost permanent residence in his head taunted.

"Shut up," Gage rasped, swiping at the air as if he could bat away the abuse. He didn't know how much longer he could go or where he was even going. For a time he stumbled on like a spider trying to re-grow its legs when someone's viciously pulled them off.

Right foot stumble.

Left foot stagger.

Balance with the stick.

Repeat.

About a quarter mile down the road the boulders grew smaller in size and the road looked passable. A hidden intersection of where dirt road met pavement came into view just as he stumbled and hit the ground in a graceless heap. He rolled onto his back squinting into the sun, which was directly above. Noon. He'd need a dime to call his aunt when and if he found a phone booth. This wasn't exactly the way he hoped to present himself. He wasn't even sure if she would accept him but it was his last chance.

XXXX

Roy sat in the station on the couch, Henry the firehouse dog under his unenthusiastic hand. They'd searched all morning once the sun came up. No signs of John Gage above or below where he'd been left. Alone.

"Roy?" came a timid voice from the adjacent kitchen area. His wife, Joanne was here, no doubt called by Cap who sent the other members of fifty-one's A shift home after a very long forty-eight hours. Joanne sat beside him silently.

"We had to leave, Jo. The rules … the chopper wasn't fit … there was no choice … I didn't want …"

"Exactly." That was all Joanne said.

Roy looked at her for more and wasn't disappointed.

"You followed protocol, the pilot followed protocol. John would have expected nothing less … he expects nothing less," she corrected. "John's gonna be okay. Somehow he will be okay."

"We can't find him. Teams are going from the base up first but they have to pick their way so as not to set off any more avalanches. If I know Johnny, he took off, which means he broke the number rule, stay where you are if you're lost or left behind if you can … which means he was hurt."

"How do you know he was hurt?"

"I can't be sure but I think his shoulder was bleeding but he looked otherwise okay. He was standing on the ledge when I talked to him last. He didn't say anything but you know Johnny, he could have an axe in his head and call it a splinter."

"You have to have faith. He's strong that one. How many close calls has he had and yet he always manages to get out somehow?"

"Yeah … Look, I'm gonna volunteer for the first set of search teams. I'll call you and the kids later."

Cap chose that moment to walk in.

"Any word?" the over-caffienated paramedic asked.

"Only two. Go home."

"Cap, I have to go after him. I left him."

"No, you have to go home and rest, that's an order. You can volunteer for the night shift if they haven't found Gage by then. The rest of the guys are meeting back here to ride to the command station at the base of the cliffs at seven o'clock. We'll have lost the light by then but command agreed not to call the search due to nightfall."

Joanne tugged Roy's arm and he got into her car leaving his in the parking lot.

When Roy opened the door at home, his kids, Chris and Jennifer leapt up from their places in front of their favourite Flintstones episode and into his arms.

"Did they find Uncle Johnny yet?" seven-year-old Jennifer asked.

Roy squatted down to eye level. "I'm afraid not, Princess but they will". _I will_

XXXX

John stirred as something moist wet his lips. His eyes opened and strained to make out a figure hovering over him talking to him but he couldn't understand what the person was saying just yet.

Water trickled into his mouth drops at a time. He gagged as the paper napkin made contact with his tongue and the water drops stopped flowing. He raised his head desperate for more but was gently pushed back down by a hand on his good shoulder.

"P … p … please … more."

Hands gripped his shoulder and helped him to sit as a cup was pressed to his lips. He tried to drink greedily but the cup was pried easily from his shaking grasp.

"Not too much at once. We don't want you throwing it back up," a feminine voice cautioned.

Gage looked up to a woman who looked to be around forty-five years old with auburn hair and green eyes.

"What's your name?"

For a second, John couldn't remember … _loser? Worthless brat? Nothing? Nobody?_

_John, yes that's it … It's john … but don't tell her that, she'll send you back._

"It's Chet," John lied, not knowing where he pulled that name from.

"How many fingers am I holding up, Chet?" the woman asked.

_Gee lady I can't even really make out your face, let alone your fingers …_

"Two?" he tried to answer with false confidence. He'd been asked this question many times after being taken to the hospital after a beating that was explained away as falling off his bike or his horse, his one great joy in life before his step father sold the horse for gambling money.

"Today's date?" the woman asked. John mumbled something in reply that she couldn't quite make out. In any case, he needed a doctor, and fast.

"Chet? Can you stand?"

"M hm," came the weak reply.

The young man's hair fell into his face just a little but was still relatively short for one so young. She reached out to help him to his feet. He flinched and nearly fell back down.

"Easy kid. I'm just going to help you up. My car's right over there. I'm going to take you to a doctor. Is there someone I can call when we get there?"

"N-no, please …"

"I'm Nina." She took his elbow and he was too weak to fight off the help. She debated putting him in the backseat of her station wagon to lie down or up front where she could keep an eye on him. She decided he'd better ride up front. She opened the door and helped him get in, buckling his seat belt.

The engine grumbled to life and the muffler groaned and puffed from the abuse of the dirt roads she'd been on.

"I was on my way to pick up some hybrid grapevines from my husband's partner when I noticed the road was blocked and saw you lying just beyond the warning signs."

The young man beside her couldn't explain how he'd gotten there so she surmised he must have been caught in the rockslides.

As Nina drove, she dug out more napkins from the glove box and moistened them from a canteen on the seat between them holding them out to him.

"Keep those on the bump on your head. It's pretty nasty."

"Yeah, I know. Concussion." He had no idea how he knew that so certainly. His head felt like it was split wide open.

Nina glanced sideways at the kid noticing the unusual choice of clothing. Kids his age usually wore jeans or cords. She figured maybe the pants were part of a school uniform.

As Nina avoided the odd rock in the road the boy started shivering. Nina's twenty-year-old son George was visiting from college and had left his letterman sweater draped over the seat. Nina wrapped it around John's shoulders. It didn't stop the shivering.

"Don't worry, we'll be at the hospital soon," Nina said gently. With that, her passenger sat bolt upright, the sweater falling from his shoulders.

"N-no. No hospitals. Just l-let me out. I'm - okay."

When the car did not pull over, Gage became concerned.

"Chet, relax. They can help you. You're hurt. I can't just leave you out here."

It took a minute for Gage to remember that he told Nina his name was Chet and his foggy mind was having trouble keeping up with the lie. He wracked his brain for an excuse.

"I …d-don't have insurance."

"I'll take you to Rampart. They treat first and ask questions later in an emergency like yours and I'm sure everything will be okay once they contact your family."

Images assaulted him but he had no idea where they came from. _Rampart. Any hospital really_. Memories of Pain, horrible and almost unendurable, chest on fire, and struggling to breathe.

"NO! L-l- let me out!"

The car pulled over but Nina held onto the almost sobbing young man, overpowering him easily. It was another hour's drive from where they were now but there was a small clinic near her town where she knew the staff very well. She knew he should be in a hospital but if he was only going to sign himself out against medical advice as soon as she took him in; there was no choice but to try to take him there instead. She just hoped that he didn't slip further into shock.

"Chet, listen to me," she said, tilting his brown eyes up to meet her gaze. "You need to be seen by a doctor. There's a small clinic in my hometown and …" She held up her hand as John tried to protest. "They aren't a hospital. They don't have inpatients. You'll likely be in and out today."

Nina made sure not to make a promise she couldn't keep. It was very likely that the clinic would send the young man back to the city for hospitalization but she figured they'd sedate him by then so he'd be more willing.

John looked down at his blood-encrusted hands. How many times had they looked like that? There was only kindness and concern in Nina's eyes and he hadn't seen that look directed at him for a very long time.

"O … okay."

The car started once again and they sat in silence for a few more minutes before John started to drift off to sleep. Alarm rose in Nina.

"Chet, honey, you need to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I know, concussion, stay awake … got it, Roy," he murmured.

"Who's Roy, Chet?

"Unnn, don' … know. I'm s … sorry."

Alarm bells were set off in Nina. She wasn't a psychologist but someone saying sorry for being injured was never a good sign.

The kid was a puzzle even to look at. Very thin, but at the same time, well muscled, mature, but vulnerable. Her protective instinct was on high alert and she'd only known him for a half hour. She kept him talking, wincing every time she saw him grimace in pain with every bump in the road.

It was exhausting for John to measure how much he could tell his rescuer. He was confused, mind bursting with images that were detached from him, trying to cling to faces that swarmed in and out his head that he couldn't recognize while at the same time trying to fight off the ones who tormented him.

"I'm so tired …"

His head tossed and turned and he mumbled in delirium. "N … no, please, I'll be good. Please…" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and Nina's heart broke.

"Chet, no, wake up, we're almost there. It's going to be okay. No one's going to hurt you."

Nina shook him gently but there was no response. She stepped harder on the gas pedal. If she got pulled over, so much the better, she'd have help with her poor burden.

The car skidded to a stop outside the door to the small clinic. Nina got out and ran inside. An orderly pushing a gurney and a nurse came outside to the car. The young man was wheeled behind a curtained off area as Nina was asked to come to the desk to give information.

XXXX

Roy stood at the edge of the cliff where John was stranded nearly twenty-four hours ago. He bent and picked up his partner's shredded blue shirt. Blood caked the fireman's patch Gage was so proud to wear. It was like the young man had vanished into thin air. There were no traces of him below. The wind blew any footprints away.

Traffic finally flowed, controlled by police in one way spurts of twenty minutes each way as rocks were cleared and life for most people went on entirely too fast for Roy Desoto. Cap walked up to Roy. Roy handed Gage's shirt to him. It was a lot of blood.

Volunteers turned up nothing. Joanne's car pulled up, Chris and Jen asleep in the backseat having spent hours searching for their Uncle Johnny after winning over the protest of their parents that it was too dangerous. They'd kept to the groomed area at the base of the canyon once it was deemed safe from rockslide by the county. Joanne got out of the car as quietly as she could, settling a blanket over the two kids before walking up to Roy.

Joanne didn't say anything, she saw Cap showing the others the bloodied shirt. She simply hugged her husband until he was ready to talk.

"He was hurt, Jo. And now he could be …"

"We don' know that, right? He's a paramedic, Roy. He'd have done some cursory first aid and … We'll find him."

He wanted to believe her. Everything in his mind told him that Johnny was likely dead, but everything in his heart felt like the other times when Gage was hurt, trapped somewhere, out of sight. Somehow, there was a spark of hope. _I'd feel it if he was dead, wouldn't I?_ It was the same feeling that had in the past kept him digging when others told him it was too late, kept him fighting when others told him to stop.

XXXX

An all too familiar sting in the crook of his arm roused Gage to consciousness. His eyes opened, wild, glaring in all directions, searching for escape.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Two strong arms lay across his chest. "Don't try to sit up just yet there son, you'll ruin what is probably my finest stitching job to date and that's saying something as I'm due to retire next month."

A greying man with a white coat and black, square glasses gazed down at him with a kind, concerned expression, standing up straight when Gage gave up the struggle.

"I'm Doctor Bridgewater," the man said, holding out his hand.

Gage shook his hand with his own gauze clad ones, realizing with a thrill of horror that he couldn't have sat up if he'd wanted to. Not without assistance.

"How bad …" The words were familiar to his lips but there weren't the voices his subconscious longed to hear to tell him the answer.

The doctor took a deep breath. Nina already told him he'd have trouble with this one.

"You took a nasty blow to the head, concussion, broken collar bones, shock, hypothermia side effects. We transfused you as soon as you got here and you stabilized nicely."

"What time is it? How long have I been here?"

"Tell you what. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine." The doctor released the slight pressure on Gage's chest once he promised to lay still.

_Not like I have a choice,_ Gage thought bitterly.

"What's your name?"

"Chet," he answered automatically. _Huh, maybe I do have a choice here._

"Last name?"

"S … Stoker." _Where did I get that!_

"How can we contact your parents or next of kin?"

A nurse stepped into the cubicle, pad of paper and pen in hand. She smiled at Gage in a most charming way.

"Y … you c- can't. They … they're d- dead." _True_, John thought defiantly. They didn't have to know about his stepfather. He wasn't going back there. Ever. And he wasn't going through the embarrassment of giving them his aunt's phone number only to find out she didn't want him.

The doctor took note of something Nina told him earlier. The young man started stuttering far worse with the mention of parents. Okay, new tactic.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen …" _fourteen? … Oh my god, I don't know. _Three numbers danced just out of his mind's reach for reasons he couldn't explain. _Seventeen? Twenty- one? Twenty-five?_

The heart monitor next to his bed went off like a lie detector with each answer John gave from there out.

"Okay, you need to calm down for me. Chet?"

But John was in full panic. What was today's date? How old _was_ he? The name Chet had been fished from his mind in a moment of inventiveness. He _knew_ his _real_ name, John, the rest of it, not so much. His heart thudded painfully sending stabbing jolts into his collarbones.

"What's today's date?"

_I don't know._

John didn't answer.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

John focused on fingers waving in front of his face.

"Two?"

"Okay, that's good."

John knew when he was being lied to and this was one of those times. He wished the heart monitor would shut up already and stop squealing on him. He just wanted to sleep; no he just wanted to get out of here.

Being patted on the shoulder and told everything was going to be alright didn't work. It wasn't going to be alright. Ever.

"I'm going to give you something to relax, take the edge off the pain," the nurse said, stepping forward.

John caught her hand.

"N -no. You can't. I … don't … don't give m -my permission." John stuck his chin out defiantly, proud somehow that he knew his rights. But the heart monitors had other ideas. They were going berserk along with his muddied thoughts and vision that was blurring at the edges causing the room to spin out of control along with the rest of his life.

"S-sides, I h-have a con … concussion, can't give … give m-me …"

"Not to worry, young man, we're monitoring you very closely and I need to stitch up that shoulder now. It's okay."

Gage continued to fight the medication order but being monitored made sense somehow that he'd need something for the pain from the impending stitches. He just needed a minute to figure out it out.

The betrayal at the words 'temporary mental incapacitation' stung his heart as the thin blanket covering him was lowered and the needle found its mark in his hip.

"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to sedate him with the concussion and all but at least it'll help him rest since we can't give him strong pain killers for the same reason.

Soon, the shot of mild sedative made everything okay, the heart monitor's slow rhythmic beeps almost friendly in the empty room. The nurse smiled sadly at him, took his pulse, wrote something on a chart and left. His glassy eyes blinked lazily as he stared at the ceiling desperately trying to clear the fog in his head.

XXXX

When six-year-old Jen Desoto roused from a fitful sleep in the backseat and her little face appeared in the window with the all too inquisitive look, _did we find uncle Johnny?_ Roy opened the back door and scooted in next to his two kids.

Chris stirred and both of the children bravely fought off tears that threatened to fall. Joanne was exhausted, having cooked and handed out water and coffee to search teams and handing out maps of places deemed safe to check by novice volunteer rescuers. As a member of the Red Cross she'd done this many times but never for anyone she knew personally. Something about John brought out the older sister in her, made her want to put some meat on his bones, and tell Roy to look out for him as much as she told John to look out for her husband. There was nothing frail about Johnny Gage, she couldn't ever put her finger on why she felt this way about him so she gave up trying and just went with her instincts. John was godfather of Chris and Jen thought at times he seemed scarcely older than them.

Roy saw Joanne and the kids home and Cap promised to pick him up after the kids went to bed. He sat on the edge of his and Joanne's bed, both kids having asked to sleep with mom since he wasn't going to be home and because the seriousness of the situation scared them more than ten-year-old Chris at least was willing to admit.

"Uncle Johnny's told us wilderness survival stories, dad, he knows what he's doing," Chris said confidently.

Roy was pleased not to have to contradict his son. John was an avid outdoorsman, wanted to own a ranch someday and buy a horse. With a sad realization, Roy remembered something John had said the day of this horrible shift.

_Hey Pally, I was just at the bank, I think I have enough for a down payment on a small parcel of land just outside of Carson and the bank manager was a chick if you can believe it, imagine that! I put on some of the old Gage charm and I'll hear back soon if I get the mortgage loan._

Roy swallowed the lump in his throat. Sure, John Gage could be incorrigible sometimes especially where women were concerned but truth was, he was also the most chivalrous and respectful underneath the bravado and flirting. But the worst memories of that day hit Roy with a punch to the gut.

_Uh, Roy what say we go check out that piece of land after shift? Joanne and the kids won't be up yet and we could grab a cup of coffee and be back before they even knew you were late._

Did the kid have to look so damned hopeful? Did Roy have to be that tired after shift to say no? It wasn't like he'd outright said no, he just put John off until he heard from the bank, couldn't stand to see him looking longingly at that land and know he could still be turned down for the loan and then he'd have to deal with a moody, sulky John for the next two or more months until he would apply to yet another bank. What he wouldn't give to hear John complaining and slamming his locker about being turned down by a banker chick or even better, hear him whoop with joy at getting the loan and telling Chet _in your face!_

Roy almost laughed as tired as he was. _You come back to me Junior and I'll buy you a damned pony myself!_

"Daddy, can you read us a quick story before you go find Uncle Johnny?" Jen asked.

Her faith almost killed him. It wasn't a question _if_ you find Uncle Johnny; it was _when_ you find him.

Roy picked up The Little Engine That Could and read as his kids' eyes became droopy.

"That's Uncle Johnny," Chris said firmly. "He's the little engine that could. Remember all the times he got in trouble but he kept going?"

Roy let out a small laugh. John would like that. He'd tell him what Chris said _when_ he found him.

Cap knocked a half hour later, looking worn out and Roy kissed Joanne goodnight and promised to come home for breakfast.

XXXX

John slept off the mild sedative, waking stiff and sore. He let out a small cry of pain as he tried to sit up. A nurse was at his side in moments.

"You need to lie still. Dr. Bridgewater's called for an ambulance to transfer you to a round the clock facility as we close in two hours. You'll be more comfortable there. I was just about to wake you anyway for your neuro checks."

Gage stayed quiet as he took this in. He struggled to sit again and blushed when he couldn't.

"Ummmm, bathroom?"

'Oh! I'm sorry." She raised the head of the bed up slightly and Gage groaned in appreciation at the small stretch of his back from having been still for so long. She handed him a small plastic jug and closed the curtain around his bed.

_Thank God for small favors,_ he sighed. He was ultra private and didn't even want to know how he'd gotten into the small backless hospital gown. The nurse gave him a few moments and took the jug from him.

John hated to ask for anything else but thirst finally won out. The nurse brought him a cup of water with a straw but the straw hurt and stuck to his split lip so he took the lid off and attempted to tip the cup with his bandaged hands. It slipped from his hands, spilling down his front and onto the floor.

"I'm s-sorry! I'll c-clean it up!" John was frantic and in his panic he managed to sit up fully and even to a standing position which lasted all of a minute before he found his way to the floor again. He backed into a corner and sat with his hands over his head.

The Nurse called for Dr. Bridgewater and was surprised to find Nina still waiting in the hallway. Nina stood abruptly as she caught a glimpse of John sitting on the floor. The receptionist told the nurse that Bridgewater was helping an asthmatic child and would be five minutes. She offered to call an orderly.

"I'm not a relative but he knows me a bit … maybe I can help?" Nina asked timidly.

The grateful nurse took anyone's help at this point.

"Chet?" she called softly, kneeling down in front of the boy. His face was clean now, hair shiny black and as neat as it could be around the bandages wound around his forehead and the back of his head. His fingernails that stuck out from the gauze wrapped hands were clean now too of the blood that had crusted under them when she first met him. He was cleaner sure, but something inside him had broke. He didn't respond to the name.

Gage gasped and pulled back with a groan of pain when she put her hand even on his good shoulder. Nina kept her hand there and felt the tremors course over him. The nurse stood back-to, filling a syringe and gathering some gauze to put over the crook of her patient's elbow until she could restart the IV that he'd pulled out in his fright.

Blood pulsed out of John's arm with each heartbeat. Nina tilted his face up to meet her eyes even as he tried to look away, desperate to come up with a reason as to why he was hurt again. As his eyes met hers, there was spark of recognition. She'd been kind to him. She was also the person who brought him here.

"You … you p-promised I could go home?" _No, I don't have one of those anymore, not for a long time _… "Leave t- today."

For a minute Nina wished the nurse would hurry up and put the boy out again but those eyes, they tugged at her good nature and held her accountable for her promise even when it was made with the best of intentions and for his own good.

Gage looked at his hands, stinging from the unforgiving rocks and tumbles he took. _I can't call my aunt now_. He forced himself to look at Nina. He took her hand and was led back to the bed. Eyeing the nurse with the syringe wearily he promised once more to be good and wondered what on earth he did wrong when that caused them both to grimace in sadness.

The nurse bandaged his arm and didn't restart the IV.

"Drink," she ordered holding a plastic container of apple juice for him.

The cool liquid felt wonderful on his parched throat and he closed his eyes in appreciation. He really wanted to lie back down and let darkness claim him from the pain in his head but he wanted to appear strong more.

Dr. Bridgewater came in and did a few more cursory neuro exams on Gage and asked to speak to Nina outside the room.

"Wh … whatever you have to say to her you can tell me. She … she's not a relative."

"Okay, straight from the hip then. I could and probably should sign you off as temporarily mentally incapacitated and that would make it legal for me to send you to the nearest hospital against your will but the thing is, I've seen kids like you before. You'd no sooner get there and you'd sneak out somehow and probably end up dead." With that statement the doctor gave Gage a look that told him to keep quiet because arguing would be no use.

"Now earlier I talked to Nina and she agreed to let you stay with her family at the vineyard. They have a good medic there and he's agreed to wake you every couple of hours to check on that concussion of yours. So, I'll make a deal with you; you agree to stay with Nina until you're on your feet again and firing on all cylinders or I sign you over as a temporary ward of the state, given that you're suffering from confusion from a severe concussion. I'll want to see you back here tomorrow and we'll go from there. Do we have a deal?"

Gage faced Nina as if trying to figure out what was going on. She smiled and shrugged sheepishly. "You should see how many puppies and kittens I've brought home …"

With that Gage smiled for the first time in hours and it reached his eyes.

"I … I can work, for my keep I mean. I can look after horses …" A dark look clouded his face as he remembered the horse he once owned and how Nina told him she had some.

Knowing somehow that the boy needed validation Nina squared her shoulders. "I would expect nothing less." She softened and added, "Once you're well."

"Th … thanks." Gage looked around awkwardly. He stood and tried to straighten his shoulders but found it too painful.

"You'll have to wear this brace I'm afraid," Bridgwater said, holding up a contraption that looked like some sort of medieval torture device.

Gage complied as the brace was put on. He listened to the instructions. He was allowed to take it off to go to bed as long as he lied flat but other than that, it was to remain on. The list of 'don'ts' was long and Gage wondered if it might just be better to go the hospital. He would be a burden on Nina and her family.

Nina and Bridgwater left the room as Gage reluctantly let the nurse help him into some clean scrubs.

XXXX

Out in the hallway Bridgewater was having second thoughts about not sending the young patient to the hospital in the city.

"He's suffering from mild selective amnesia, that much is obvious but I don't want to heavily sedate him and I can't give him heavy duty pain meds due to the concussion so he's also a flight risk and he'd do more harm than good if he ran away. Now of course, the hospital could restrain him but my nurse explained what happened when the water spilled and I doubt that would do much for his healing. More than likely he'd regress. I really think all he needs is rest and the swelling to go down and some time."

"I'd suspected as much. Dr. Bridgewater. When I covered Chet up, I saw heavy scars on his back. I think he's too young to be a war vet but …"

"It's clear there's been some type of abuse or accident there but as they're not fresh wounds and he said he didn't remember how he'd gotten them, I can't really force him to tell me."

"How old do you think he really is?"

"Well, from my exams I'd say he's nineteen, twenty maybe, which is the only reason I'm willing to gamble with my treatment plan at all. He didn't seem certain himself about his age when we asked. The confusion with this type of head injury is normal but being that he's obviously not in familiar territory and has no one to ground him to reality it'll probably take a few days for it to pass. He did tell my nurse that he'd been hitchhiking to get somewhere but he wouldn't say where. Who knows how far from home he is."

"I hope you're right about the few days. It's going to be hard to keep him pinned down until he's well," Nina said, accepting the bag of meds and care instructions from the receptionist.

"Oh, and Nina, let him figure out the date and things he's confused on gently, no sudden jolts of reality if you can help it, I have a feeling he'd panic."

"That much I figured, seeing him on the floor like that. Well, I guess I'd better call Andy and tell him I'm bringing home another stray."

Dr. Bridgewater smiled as Nina picked up the phone at the reception desk. She really was a good person and though her husband Andy grumbled about the miscellaneous strays, he had a heart of gold and loved that his wife cared so much. Dr. Bridgewater had treated Andy for a year after he came back from the Korean War and marvelled at his recovery under his wife's gentle home care.

Nina put the phone receiver down as Dr. Bridgwater peered into the room where Gage was now sitting with his feet dangling over the edge of the gurney.

"Andy's coming to help me get Chet home. I'll pick my car up tomorrow when we bring him in for his check up if that's okay.

Bridgewater smiled. "I supposed he grumbled, you dug in and he caved?"

"You know him too well," Nina laughed. "Took about twelve seconds. I think it's the Sergeant in him that has to curve things around to being his decision."

"I'd expect so," agreed Bridgewater. "It's about time for Andy's annual check up too, better remind him if he wants the best, the clock is ticking down and I'll be at my cabin up North fishing in a month."

"I'll remind him."

XXXX

"Hey, honey, you okay?" asked Andy Carter as he entered the small reception area of the town clinic.

"Yes, I told you, I'm fine, just a long day and that poor boy …"

Andy put his arm around his wife and held her for a moment. His one armed hug was all she ever needed to make the world right again. Andy lost his left arm in the war and came back uncertain if he'd still have the life he wanted, the girl he wanted, but Nina quieted those fears and they got married, Andy retired and they bought a vineyard and had a son. It was hard for him to give up his career and Nina quietly and stoically endured all the regrets and guided him through his decision to take a desk job or retire. He paid her back by being patient with her strays and charitable causes, even helping her out with them from time to time, but he'd never admit to liking it.

Andy peaked through the curtain. He whistled low and shook his head. The kid on the bed looked broken, not just in body but in soul. It was a look he'd seen many times back in the war and he never expected to see it here, at home. What could possibly be so bad to put that look on someone's face?

Turning from the window to collect himself and try to hide the obvious reaction he had to the boy, Andy tried to say something manly, cool even. But what? He couldn't grumble that the kid would have to sleep in the barn like when Nina brought home a dog or puppy and snuck into the house anyway, to which he'd grumble a bit more and make a bed for it. He couldn't grumble about another mouth to feed like he did with the cats or kittens she brought home and then help out putting up posters to get homes for them, you know, just so they'd be out of his hair.

Nina read her husband's face like a book. Yep, he was at the _another mouth to feed_ moment, she wondered how long it would take him to get to the part where he'd be telling the new owners of whatever puppy or kitten they were taking, to be careful with them, they were small and helpless, and to get them spayed or neutered so their offspring wouldn't be a _pain in my arse,_ as he'd put it to them. Then he'd pat them on their little heads and go check the vineyard or some other chore and turn up in an hour or two later for dinner and a beer in a better mood.

Andy took the wheelchair the receptionist had placed in front of Nina. He knew she wasn't a china doll but when she accepted him the way he was when he came home he vowed she wouldn't do anything he could do. Nina protested this of course until she understood where it came from. He was a man, proud and strong. Andy pushed the wheelchair into the room expertly, switching one hand from the left handle to the right to keep it straight.

"Chet, this is my husband, Andy."

Gage shook hands with Andy awkwardly, finding it difficult to reach out properly with the brace on. Still, he made sure to make it a firm handshake, remembering what his real father had said about trustworthiness. The effort on his torn up hands caused agony to shoot up his arms but he bit the inside of his cheek to hide it.

"So, let's get your shoes on and get you out of here, I'm sure Old Doc Bridgewater wants to get some shut-eye," said Andy.

"Watch who you're calling old there, sonny boy," laughed Bridgewater, putting two very dusty boots onto the bed beside the patient.

Gage yelped as he tried to bend to put on his boots.

"Easy there, let me help you." It didn't escape Andy that the boy flinched when he reached out to him.

Andy studied the boots. They were leather, sturdy and rugged, not the kind of thing a young man would typically wear. The army had taught Andy the fine art of observation and yet the more he talked to the boy and tried to help him, the more of a puzzle he became. Still, there was something steadfast and innocent about him that put Andy at ease about having him in their home. He was after all, their first human stray and Andy hoped that his wife didn't make a habit of this.

Andy noticed the brave stubbornness of the boy as he shrugged off the help into the wheelchair and ended up landing gracelessly into the seat, grimacing as his elbow hit the arm rests and shoved his arm up against the braces. Tears crowded the corner of the boy's eyes and Andy could see the strain and toll it was taking not to let them fall. He was no stranger to pain. Neither of them was.

Nina smiled as she took in the sight in the parking lot. Andy brought the Volkswagen Westphalia he bought years ago to take their son camping. The vehicle hadn't moved since their son had gone away to university. Andy only recently started getting it ready for a summer weekend trip when their son was home for two months.

"Figured he'd more comfortable lying down," Andy explained, looking at the ground.

Nina kissed her husband.

Gage was too tired to argue. His head pounded in time to his heart as he crawled painfully slowly into the bed in the back of the van. He was asleep before the doors closed.

And somewhere in L.A. people searched for John who was more lost than any of them could ever imagine.


	3. chapter three

Over twenty-four hours passed since Gage was left on the cliff and no one had any information on his whereabouts. Bits of the handy talkie were found scattered above and below where he was last seen, and that and his blue uniform shirt were the only confirmation that he'd at least made it to the top of the canyon. What happened after that was anyone's guess and those guesses were growing grimmer as more time passed.

Chet put a hand on Roy's shoulder and passed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee, eyes still searching for their friend even on the much-needed rest stop. It was their day off and every man from their shift was out looking for the youngest member of their crew.

"Come on, Roy, you know Gage, he's tough. You should have seen him when he got bit by that snake man, all calm and collected putting his own IV in …" Chet's voice trailed as Roy grimaced at the reminder of the other time when he wasn't there for Gage. Sure, he was in the helicopter with the victims where he was supposed to be but it still felt wrong.

"I know, Chet. It's just not like him not to come strutting out of the woods or a building denying he's hurt and wondering what all the fuss is about."

There was something that always concerned Desoto about his partner that he didn't share with his fellow firefighters. That fierce independent streak, at least where it came to matters of personal space and looking after himself. Now, give him a problem with a girl or a screw up on his credit report and no one would hear the end of it until it was resolved or Gage just went on to the next trivial problem that came up. Gage sought council for what Desoto considered _sweating the small stuff_ but never accepted help unless it was practically forced on him for life threatening matters.

"You know Gage was … _is_, going to buy a small ranch outside of Carson when he gets back."

"Ah, it'll be nice for the pigeon to have a nice hidey hole to get over the week's torments from the phantom," Chat mused.

"He asked me to come have a look at the place before he had his appointment with the bank. Oh no, he's gonna miss it." Roy glanced at his watch. _And I told him I'd go look at it later._

"He'll have to reschedule an appointment for the loan," Chet said sadly.

It was widely known that Chet loved to torment Gage endlessly, their wars escalating in frequency and ferocity until Cap intervened. It was also widely known that the two were friends and cared deeply for one another.

"I'm gonna call up the bank and cancel his appointment," Roy announced, standing to stretch his back from the hard ground where they stopped to take a break from the search.

Roy walked to the command centre, which was now situated at the top of the canyon and made the call from the radio asking Sam Lanier from dispatch to relay a message to the bank.

"Roy, Cap wants to see you for a minute," called Mike Stoker, the engineer.

Ice dropped into Roy's stomach. There was no rescue frenzy so why did Cap want to talk to him? Bad news?

"Cap, you wanted to see me?" Roy rocked on his heels.

"Yeah, Roy, headquarters has pictures of Johnny in uniform but we wanted to get some of him out of uniform too, for posters and the evening news. I know you and Joanne probably have some of him from the parties and what not or maybe you could swing by his place and look something up."

"Sure, Cap, I'll go now."

Roy called Joanne to ask her if there was any pictures of Johnny that would be suitable for a missing poster at their house but the only pictures of Johnny on the mantle at the Desoto home was Johnny with Jen and Chris or with Roy at tending to the barbecue or beside their old engine that they worked so hard to repair.

Joanne requested that Roy pick her up to go over to Johnny's place. Johnny was like a littler brother to her and she figured she'd tidy up for him and see if anything needed tended to while Roy looked for pictures. Chris and Jen were at friend's houses for the afternoon.

XXXX

It felt wrong to reach above the door into a small hole in the plaster for the spare key that Johnny told Roy about. Sure, Roy had done it many times to get new clothing for Johnny when he was injured or to water plants and feed the cat when Johnny was away but this felt more invasive.

Roy didn't visit John's apartment as much as John came to his house. It just made sense, the Desoto's had a yard and the house was bigger for the piggy back rides and races Chris and Jen would talk his younger partner into.

A lot changed since Roy was here last. The furniture was newer; the coffee table the only old piece left that showed any wear. John's apartment was neater too, no dirty dishes in the sink, no laundry on the couch.

_Junior's grown up,_ mused Roy. He'd spent a lot of time teasing the younger man about his housekeeping, telling him he'd never get a wife while living like a sloppy bachelor. Gage of course kept telling him he didn't want a wife but as time went on, dating thinned out to repeat dates rather than numerous one-night stands.

A small, plaintiff meow brought Roy out of his musings when Joanne carried Blister, a charcoal grey cat into the living room from where she'd been hiding on John's bed.

The can opener growled as the lid spun and popped off and the cat hopped up onto the counter top. Joanne didn't have the heart to shoo it down. Blister ate furiously. Joanne's eye welled with tears when she remembered what Roy had said about the day he and John found her in a burned-out house, her owners dead, tail broken, skin singed and one ear burned off. John sat on the lawn with her, his own mask over her tiny head, talking to her, telling her not to give up. When Animal control arrived to put her down, he stopped them, telling them he'd pay the vet bills. There were no relatives to claim Blister and Gage visited her until she was well enough to come home and they'd owned each other ever since.

Roy walked into John's bedroom and opened his top drawer. He chuckled despite the solemn task. Here was where Gage must have hid his tendency toward being a bit messy and unorganized. There were receipts from a year ago, one for the dresser itself, which was a rich dark cherry wood. Old bankbooks, rent receipts, and ownerships for cars he no longer owned, were all crammed in with neatly folded, white socks.

After three minutes of rifling through the drawer, a leather wallet was revealed beneath a large manila envelope. Gage never carried his personal wallet at work, opting for a small leather folder with his Paramedic, firefighter I.D., his license and a bit of spending money. There were no pictures of John in the wallet.

Scanning the brand new end tables that didn't match the old coffee table at all, Roy saw pictures of his own family proudly displayed; still none of John. Roy searched the other drawers and kept eyeing the manila envelope. He knew he shouldn't but he looked over his shoulder to make sure Joanne was still comforting Blister and changing the litter box and opened the envelope.

A tissue check stub fell to the floor and a sheaf of legal papers landed in his lap. Roy picked up the check stub. _Twenty-five thousand dollars! _His eyes scanned the documents that upon further inspection came from a law office in Montana.

_John Roderick Gage, being the sole heir of Monarch Insurance Policy Number 12352 shall have the sum of monies in the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars released to him on his twenty-first birthday, August 23, 1975._

Roy's eyes followed the legal jargon through the next three pages, skimming when he could, paying strict attention when numbers on the paper relating to John himself didn't add up. On the fourth paper was John's neat signature on the line stating that he received the inheritance three weeks prior to today.

Roy found a relevant bankbook and checked the savings account. The amount listed in John's account added to his inheritance would make a tidy down payment on a ranch. Roy noticed a deduction and transfer to a separate account of ten thousand dollars. He fished through the drawer until he found another bank book and was shocked to see his children's names listed as account owners in trust. A note was stuck between the pages of the tiny book, a reminder to himself to make sure the account was included in his will.

Thoroughly lost, Roy opened a small, leather bound book and found it to be John's personal journal. This at least made a little more sense because it was written just the way Gage talked and was updated about every three to four days since about four years previous by the looks of things. Each entry was only two or three sentences long, typical entries _The Phantom got me good today but good old Chet's got something coming if he thinks he can keep pulling off these pranks. The Pigeon will get even_. How well Desoto remembered the date listed above that entry.

Roy flipped to the front pages of the book. The third entry had Roy wanting to call out to Joanne for confirmation as he did math in his head, trying to hold in his emotions.

_Aunt Rose let me stay with her until she moved into the retirement home and I finished school early through correspondence so no one could find me through school records. Two years early! Guess all that time I spent avoiding my stepfather holed up in the barn or in my room paid off, nothing to do but read._

_Aug 18_

_Well, I got my first apartment today, not the nicest but it's mine and I earned the money honestly. Okay, mostly honestly. I joined the fire Department and I got my first check today. I look twenty-one so they took me … after I acquired some fake ID. I'm seventeen next week and I passed all the physicals and the lift tests and written work so what's the difference?_

_Dec 25_

_I saved someone today! We were on the second floor of a company that makes margarine and were marking X's on doors where the space is empty. Well, the last one wasn't empty. One of the suits, a manager or something I guess, was still in his office and had passed out. Employees cheered when I carried him out. Guess he must be an okay boss. It's Christmas. I'm the only one without family so I took the shift even though I'd have been off on the regular rotation. I don't mind, probably would have been bored anyway. I know it's kind of stupid but I hope my mom saw what I did today. I can visit Aunt Rose tomorrow; unfortunately she won't know the difference between the twenty-fifth and the twenty-sixth anyway. I got her a new brooch. A guy at station one ten's girlfriend sells jewellery and I think Aunt Rose will like it._

_Dec 30_

_Theresa from down the hall invited me to a New Year's Eve party tonight. I turned her down even though I'm off tomorrow and could sleep in. I don't need to be found drinking and have someone look too thoroughly at my records and find out my secret. Maybe I'll take a shift for someone tomorrow, New Years just feels kind of lonely for some reason._

_It was the last entry in the first section that formed a lump in Roy's throat and caused him to drop the book._

_January 15_

_I was introduced to a man called Roy Desoto today. L.A. County is starting up a Paramedic Program so I went to the meeting and he was one of the speakers. Paramedics will be able to do more than just carry people out of buildings; they'll actually be able to save people who can't wait for treatment at a hospital. Desoto thinks I'd make a suitable candidate. I was going to turn it down, hell; I figured I should run the other way, being that I shouldn't even really be in the department yet. Mr. Desoto's real enthused about it and I found myself saying yes to a training program that starts in three days._

The next entry was nearly six months later.

_August 12_

_Had no time to update; training was brutal with our regular shifts on top. I found it a bit difficult to start an IV on a person at first with the volunteers among us. I gave shots to the horses back home so it wasn't as hard for me as it was for some. The Paramedic program has its obstacles to overcome. Some doctors feel we're not trained enough, that we'll do more harm than good but I really think we can save some people. There's nothing worse than to carry someone out of a fire only to have them die on you from smoke inhalation or dehydration or something we can do something about._

_If the program goes through, we'll be working in pairs. I'm still the boot at Station one ten but the more I get to know Roy Desoto, the more I hope we'll end up assigned together. To be honest I'll feel better practicing with him because he's really good, one of the best. I just don't want to screw up; it'll just prove what my stepfather always said about me if I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should have joined the program but I have to try._

Roy wiped at his eyes. _Oh, Junior, you never screwed up. And if I ever meet your stepfather…_ The last entry was short. It was the day Gage started at fifty-one as Roy's partner.

_Well, guess I'm still the boot, newest and youngest guy at fifty-one but I'm Roy Desoto's partner now so it'll be worth it._

"I hope it was Junior, I hope it was," Roy whispered aloud. He wondered at the lack of further journal entries. His partner talked a lot. Maybe he found he no longer needed to tell a piece of paper his life story, but then again, he never told Roy any of the stuff about his step father or the fact that he was only twenty-one years old.

_Well that explains the growth spurt_, thought Roy, not exactly sure if he should be angry, proud, scared or worried. He settled on a combination of all of them.

"Roy did you find a picture of Johnny yet?"

Roy nearly dropped the sheaf of paper on his lap under the journal, which he snapped closed.

"Um, not yet."

"What's that you've got there?"

"Just checking for pictures in amongst this clutter."

Joanne knew her husband like the back of her hand. He was lying, and there was something in his expression that worried her. She sat beside him on the bed and waited for him to say something. She picked through a nightstand and looked for pictures as well.

"He even wore his uniform for his driver's license photo. He was so proud of what you do for a living."

"I know." _And now it could all be over._

"There's another pile of papers over here," said Joanne, reaching for the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

A stack of papers fell out and Joanne gave a delighted cry.

"Roy, look, Johnny's high school pictures. There's only two here, he must've lost a couple. His hair's longer but other than that, he sure hasn't changed much."

_That's because he's still a kid._

Roy took the picture in shaking hands. The smile on John's young face didn't meet his eyes. Someone had told him to smile and he had, there was no question. Roy knew the kid's smile, knew when it was fake, knew when it was real. He handed the legal documents to Joanne who read them and scooped up Johnny's high school photos again in disbelief.

Joanne held the pictures tightly as if she could hug Johnny through them. Staring through tears she pictured John in his uniform and then in blue jeans and his white button down shirt that he wore often. She realized the contrast in the pictures in her mind and the ones in her hands. John looked older in his uniform, stood straighter, even talked a bit differently. He'd filled out a bit since these pictures were taken but was still thin and took to drinking protein shakes with his meals to keep his weight up to stay within regulations for his job. She re-read the journal entries trying to make sense of it all.

"I should have seen this … There were clues. John only started having a beer with me after work a few weeks ago, even when the guys would hound him to live a little and told him it'd put hair on his chest. I should've seen it." Roy almost laughed out loud thinking about his last statement literally, should have seen it, how? Gage had no chest hair!

"Roy, there's no way you could have known. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty."

"You know this means he wasn't legal when he joined the department?" _God, Gage was only nineteen years old when I told him he should join the paramedic program. Seventeen when the department hired him._

"He really must've wanted this life, Roy. It sounds like he was running away from home or something."

"Most kids want to run away and join the circus, Jo, not the damned fire department. He could have been killed!"

"He wasn't. And I hate to remind you that he was at Station one ten for a time before you even met him. There was nothing about Johnny that would indicate inexperience, right?"

Sure Johnny Gage was a lot of things, impetuous, irritating at times, childish _well duh,_ but inexperienced or negligent in his duties, no way. Twenty-one or not, Johnny was one of the best paramedics the department had. _Has!_ vowed Roy to himself.

"Jo, for the time being this has to be our secret. I'll talk to Johnny when we find him. We'll figure something out."

"_We'll _talk to Johnny," Joanne corrected her husband.

Joanne sat next to Roy on John's bed and a stack of paper slid off the new comforter onto the floor revealing a picture of John and an older woman in a wheelchair. The picture looked recent. Turning it over, Joanne found the names, John and Rose on the back. In the background Roy could make out the name of a nursing home the squad had frequented on several occasions. Now that he thought of it, if the victim at the home hadn't needed transport to hospital, Johnny always stuck around for a bit saying he was going to talk to the pretty nurses but he always came out without a date. Now Roy knew why.

Roy asked Joanne to look up the number of the nursing home and in minutes he was on the phone with the administrator.

"Yes, we did have a Rose Gage as a resident here until three months ago when she passed away. I'm sorry, I don't have you on a list of next-of-kin," said a kind voice on the phone from the nursing home.

"Ah, no, actually I was looking for some information on a relative of hers, John Gage?"

"Oh, Johnny, how's he doing? We haven't seen him in months of course once he finalized a resting place for his aunt. We were so worried about him. He had to take care of everything himself. No family."

"John visited his aunt regularly?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Gage visited weekly, brightened her day and I daresay most of the residents and staff. He's quite the charmer with the ladies that man. His poor aunt suffered from dementia but she remembered Johnny most days. Poor thing thought he was in high school sometimes but he always took it with good humour and he made her feel better when she'd finally remember that she'd been a widow for ten years and she'd ask for her husband. He couldn't tell her he was a fireman, it would make her worry too much he said."

_She wasn't as demented as you think,_ Roy thought sadly. _Sure, she was a widow but she wasn't far off about Johnny belonging in high school!_

Roy thanked the woman for her time and hung up.

"Johnny's aunt died and he never even told us. He didn't take leave." Roy shook his head pondering the possible reasons for such an oversight and failure to seek solace in friends during a time of loss. Roy began to tear through the drawer for other clues. He found a receipt for a headstone that was to be delivered a month from today. He checked again for a journal entry that would indicate something that had to be devastating but found nothing.

Roy didn't want to be angry with Johnny, didn't want to feel hurt that he hadn't come to him but it was a losing battle. He felt as though he'd never truly known his best friend. A stranger was lost and all the instinct based on familiarity Roy thought he had to help find him was diminishing in the pit of his stomach. Johnny never told him or that damned journal about his aunt's passing. What other hurts had he endured alone and why?

"He had to have a very good reason not to tell you about his aunt."

"Name one," Roy said, his voice gruffer than he intended. "Haven't we always looked after Johnny when he needed us? When he was hurt?"

"The times he'd let us, yes."

Roy had to admit there had been times when John was hurting for reasons he never talked about and there was nothing he could do about it. He always figured his partner would get around to telling him about it when he was ready. Roy knew John's parents were dead but he learned early on not to ask about it.

_Oh, Junior … When I find you, I'm gonna make sure you're okay then I'm gonna kill you. Then I'm gonna bring you back and you and I are going to have a long talk and figure out what the hell we're gonna do about this._

"Here's a picture of Johnny that'll do," said Joanne triumphantly holding a small passport sized photo with a phone number written in pencil on the back.

Roy turned the picture over in his hands. It was likely taken by the person who helped Gage create his fake I.D. Roy considered calling the number on the back and finding just who in the hell would help a seventeen year old join the Fire Department.

"Probably thought Johnny just wanted to get into R rated movies or something," mused Joanne, scaring Roy by knowing just what was in his head.

Not wasting anymore time, Joanne and Roy put Blister into her cat carrier to take her home with them until Johnny was found. They locked the door and told Johnny's landlady what happened. Mrs. Ashcroft cried when she learned that John was missing.

"He's such a sweet boy. When he came here almost four years ago, there was a few times when he was a bit late with the rent but he always cut the grass or washed the top floor windows for me. After that he was never late with the rent again but he still did chores around the place after my husband, Albert died. I do hope he'll be alright."

"Us too, Mrs. Ashcroft, us too."

XXXX

John didn't remember the ride to Nina and Andy's house. He limped up the steps supported by Andy and was deposited on the couch in front of the fireplace, which was glowing a warm red. The warmth hit him making him feel sleepier after the chilly air outside. He toed his shoes off, apologizing for forgetting to do that at the door and cowering somewhat as he waited for a response.

Nina held her foot up, still shoe clad and smiled at him.

"Dr. Bridgewater wants you reclining, Chet. And you're bound to feel cold from the blood loss so I'm going to bring you some blankets and a pillow out here into the living room so you can lie here and warm up before going to the guest room, Okay?"

Gage could only yawn. Feeling very rude but helpless to do anything about it, he accepted the help to sit forward and did his best not to moan in pain when Andy helped him draw his legs up. His eyes slid shut in exhaustion but he was roused minutes later when a glass of milk and his medicine was presented to him. The concussion was doing its best to make the nausea just bad enough for his stomach to rebel but he fought against vomiting by trying deep breaths but they tore against his battered shoulders and pulled on his chest. When the nausea passed and the milk promised to stay down, Gage nodded his thanks and lost his fight with consciousness.

Andy pulled the blankets up to John's armpits and led his wife to the kitchen for a much needed cup of tea and some supper.

"I'm afraid it's nothing fancy, hon." Andy chopped onions and peppers one handed using a block with small spikes to hold the vegetables in place. Soon omelettes and bread were devoured and Nina and Andy sat drinking a glass of wine glancing out through the open kitchen door to the mystery boy who quite literally fell into their lives.

A knock at the door announced the arrival of Brett Anderson, the farm medic who handled first aid and also managed the two hundred full and part time farm hands. Brett hadn't heard of any injuries of any workers so he assumed he'd been summoned to assist the vet with the horses. He lived in a house on the farm with his wife and three kids.

Brett let out a low whistle while peaking through the kitchen door as Andy explained what was wrong with the boy on the couch.

"That kid should be in a hospital," he whispered to Andy.

Andy and Nina had given up whispering about a half hour ago when their charge didn't even stir when a horn blared outside announcing the end of a shift.

"You don't have to whisper, Brett, he's out like a light," Andy said to his friend. "Basically, Nina and I just wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to put in some overtime and stay here tonight just in case something goes wrong during one of the neuro checks Dr. Bridgwater told us to do every two hours."

"Sure, Andy, let me just go collect some clothes and tell Karen."

"Speaking of Karen," Nina said, halting Brett in his tracks, "I understand it's your anniversary next Saturday. Let's say for doing this for us, you take the weekend off with pay and I'll look after Sarah, Chloe and Pete?"

"That'll make breaking the news that I won't be home tonight that much easier," smiled Brett as he put his ball cap back on and went out the door.

As Brett left, Nina and Andy's son George came in from visiting a friend in town. George said hello to his parents and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm gonna catch the rerun of Adam-12," George announced heading toward the living room. You want to watch with me?"

"George, wait. Don't go in there yet," said Nina a bit too late.

George flipped the light on, feeling bad that he hadn't caught his mom's words fast enough when someone clearly resting on the couch bolted upright with a start. He watched in shock as his dad hurried to the couch to stop a guy somewhere around his age from getting up.

"Sorry, mom I didn't see him," George said, concern written all over his face as he took in the contraption on the guy's torso and the cuts and bruises on his face.

"You didn't know, son. It's okay, dad'll sort him out."

Gage looked wildly about the room. He didn't' remember this place. It took a full minute to get him to focus and calm, held firmly down Andy.

"Whoa, what happened to him? When did he start work here? I didn't see him today when I was cleaning out the barn or handing out pay checks and I've met pretty well everyone."

"Oh, he doesn't work here, George. I uh … found him? He was hurt early this morning or last night sometime in the rockslides over a few counties away. He's a little disoriented from a concussion but Dr. Bridgewater thinks he'll be okay with bed rest and a little TLC.

George grinned. "Gee, mom, you must have really missed me to go out and try to find a replacement for me."

"Ha ha, young man, but seriously, I couldn't just leave him out there. He's really hurt and Dr. Bridgewater thinks he's suffering from temporary amnesia from the concussion and other trauma.

"Poor guy," George said sincerely. "I heard Brett say he's staying to help look after him? I could help too, you know, I'm Pre Med. Learned a lot this year already."

At this Nina smiled. "Of that I have no doubt. Your dad and I didn't know if you were going to be home all evening or not though so we thought it best to have it covered."

"Wise plan. The old barn restaurant's having a pizza party and dance tonight so I'll likely be out until midnight. It'll be good to see the guys again."

"Say hi to Lucy for me," Nina replied sarcastically.

George blushed and turned his attention back to the living room couch where their new guest was calming down and taking in shaky breaths as Andy spoke softly to him and helped him sit up a bit so he could drink some water.

"George come in here for a minute, I'd like you to meet Chet. He'll be staying with us for a time until he's back on his feet."

George bent to save the young man from having to reach with his injured collarbones and shook hands with him.

"Nice to meet you, Chet. I'm George."

The name Chet sounded foreign and familiar to Gage and he regretted lying about his name because it wasn't easy to keep it straight when first waking in unfamiliar surroundings.

"Good to meet you too," Gage returned. Then his hand went to his face as he remembered the name on the letterman sweater he bled all over in the car.

"Oh, man, I ruined your sweater. I'll pay for it, I promise." Agitation was clearly written on Gage's face and Nina knew that if he was still hooked up to the heart monitors it would be sounding a warning.

"Hey, take it easy," George said, placing a gentle hand on Gage's shoulder. "Blue wasn't my colour anyway."

_No, but it's my colour … wait, where did that come from? _Gage's concussed brain was feeding him images of a blue shirt that kept fading in and out of focus, sometimes it was the blue letterman sweater but sometimes it was a blue button down with a crest of some sort on it. He actually felt his hand go up to reach for the shirt as if he could pluck a memory out of thin air. His mind's eye strained to see the crest but it eluded him and caused a spike of intense pain to cut across his temples and wrap around his entire head as if looking for a way to slice in.

The family gave him a minute to refocus. George dimmed the lights when he saw John squinting and trying to protect his eyes. Nina and Andy finished reading the pamphlet of symptoms of concussions which could include uncontrollable crying, outbursts of anger, confusion, and many more including loss of consciousness and even death.

"I'll … I'll p … pay for it," Gage said firmly.

It seemed important to the injured man so George agreed that he could pay for it when he was well. The truth was, George did like his letterman sweater, had been planning on giving it to a certain Miss Lucy Radwell tonight at the dance but upon seeing the young man's distress over having bled on the garment he thought it best not to upset him over it.

Gage sat wheezing miserably on the couch feeling like a bug under a microscope. George thought back to his studies on pulmonary conditions and headed to the kitchen to get the boy a cup of coffee. He returned in a moment with a steaming mug of coffee with sugar and milk, figuring he could use the energy from both anyway and the caffeine, he explained to them all that it would help in opening up the bronchial passages if they were irritated.

The weight of the mug made Gage's hands shake. George took the cup back quickly and sat gently on the edge of the couch cushion beside him. "Here, I'll give you a hand."

The steam from the mug felt great on Gage's face. He sipped awkwardly, nodding slightly when he was done sipping. It was embarrassing but George was right, the coffee did help his breathing somewhat.

Brett entered the house again without knocking this time, knowing he was expected. His duffel and med kit swung from his hands as he walked toward the spare room across from where his patient would spend the night.

"Good idea, with the coffee, George," Brett said.

"Thanks, well if you guys don't need me here, I'm going to shower and get ready for the dance."

"Sure thing, son." Andy patted George on the shoulder, silently wondering if George had gotten taller or if _he'd _started to shrink.

Brett returned from putting his gear away with a blood pressure monitor in his hands and proceeded to take John's vitals. He winced in sympathy while wrapping the cuff around John's bicep noting that there wasn't a place on his arms where bruising wasn't making itself very evident.

John kept silent, jaw muscles clenching in pain until the pressure on the cuff was released and Brett took note of the readings in a small notebook.

_Still pretty low_, John noticed through eyes that were becoming blearier by the minute. Again he wondered how he knew what the readings meant. This wasn't right and he knew it. He tried to focus on the just out of reach memories and images but it was like having someone's name on the tip of your tongue and that's where it stays. Concentrating made his head hurt more and soon he found himself being led to a bedroom down an arched hallway with a rounded topped wooden door. Once settled and left alone he briefly considered getting up to close the door for some privacy but his body wouldn't allow him to rise. He tried to listen to the conversation going on back out in the living room but the pain medications were kicking in and it might as well have been a different language for all he could decipher.

XXXX

Three days into the search for Johnny, hope was fading in the Desoto home in all but one of its occupants. Jenny sat determinedly at the kitchen table drawing a crayon sketch of her uncle Johnny. Her hands worked fast, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth reminding Joanne very much of Roy studying for a test. When she became despondent Roy was certain that she had joined the rest of them in their despair.

"Mommy, I don't have a crayon that's the colour of Uncle Johnny's eyes."

"Yes you do, Jenny, right there, the brown one," Joanne said, picking up the brown crayon and handing it to her daughter.

"No, that's brown, Uncle Johnny's eyes are brown with sparkles."

That did it. Joanne ran to the bathroom, closing the door quickly so as to hide her tears from her kids. She'd held it together for three days. She had no idea how to break the news to her children that the search and rescue squads were beginning to narrow down the search from rescue to recovery meaning the search was being scaled back and soon, Johnny would be presumed dead. Already nearby small lakes were being dredged and volunteer bands of searchers were being disbanded.

Seeing her mother suddenly run from the room, Jennifer picked up the adult's anxieties. Even John's cat, Blister meowed plaintively and kneaded her paws harder into Johnny's sweatshirt that Joanne had brought for her to lay on, thinking it would help the cat adjust if she could smell the familiar scents.

Roy sat rocking his now crying daughter, trying to hold his own emotions in. He looked over at his son who was obviously biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. Roy patted the arm of the overstuffed chair for Chris to sit next to him. He placed a hand on his son's shoulders and felt the gentle, controlled shaking. Roy wanted to say something clever like _'you know your Uncle Johnny, he's probably fishing and camping and doing just fine_', but he couldn't lie to his kids. He'd already tried to lie to himself.

The only bright part of the whole thing was that no body had been found and didn't it just suck that by now that only gave small comfort. The thought of John lying injured somewhere without food, shelter or comfort was almost harder than thinking that the worst might be over for his friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Preparing for a meal before a search for their missing man, the men of station fifty-one's A shift gathered at the Desoto's for food sent over by Mama Lopez. When Chet sat down at the wooden kitchen table, Jenny looked deeply into his eyes.

"Daddy said you have bags under your eyes, Mr. Chet but Cap said you have a full set of luggage."

"Yeah, well that's good, cutie pie 'cause when we find Johnny we're gonna have a huge vacation and I'm going to need those bags." Chet tickled Jenny until she too gave a small, sad smile.

The truth was, no one had slept well for days. Between Mama Lopez, Joanne and Cap's wife Emily though, everyone was forced into rest breaks. Strength needed to be kept up for the gruelling searches. The worst part was that tomorrow John's shift mates were expected at work.

"Roy, I've called in Brice to cover for Johnny, do you want me to have Dwyer cover for you?" asked Cap.

"Ah, I need a moment to think about that, Cap," Roy stated. It would be unpaid leave that he couldn't afford but it didn't feel right for the world to be ready to continue as if nothing happened, as if the world hadn't swallowed his best friend and refused to cough him up.

"Look, Roy, we could share your duties at the station allowing you to sleep when you're not on a call and when your shift is over and if you've been able to get any rest, you could join the search on your off time, " Mike Stoker stated.

"Yeah, we're all going to be on search teams when we're not on duty," vowed Marco.

The offers and sentiments spoke volumes about the family that the A shift had become. Johnny was their brother. They would find him, one way or the other and deal with the results when it happened. Roy took them up on their offer.

As Joanne cut up the coffee cake with Emily Stanley in the kitchen she showed the older woman the picture of Johnny that would appear on the posters.

"He looks so young in this picture," Mrs Stanley mused.

Joanne cleared her throat, finding it hard not to blurt out that Johnny was only twenty-one years old. Heck, Joanne's own brother was twenty one years old and was still in school studying to be an architect and lived at home with their parents, not knowing how to cook for himself or anything and here was Johnny fending for himself for years and out there alone. It sure explained why Johnny still loved Saturday morning cartoons with Chris and Jen and the way he annoyed Roy just enough to keep him on his toes.

"He does. Marco's sisters and Mike's wife are coming over shortly to help hang pictures around town and shops along the way up on the canyon."

"That's great. The ladies in my bridge club that Johnny and Roy taught first aid are going to organize a bake sale to help pay for the printer's bills and canteen supplies for searchers now that L.A. county has officially scaled back the search. Why old Martha Blacklock wanted to go up and search for that boy herself when she heard he was missing."

This brought a smile to Joanne's face. Martha Blacklock was eighty-five years old.

"It's no secret that Johnny and Roy are favourites among the ladies. In fact, when Dwyer and Brice showed up once to speak about fire safety in the home they were nearly booed," Mrs Stanley revealed.

"Roy says Johnny always hates those demonstrations. Says it takes him a month to get the lipstick off his collar from always being the resuscitation dummy."

The ladies of the bridge club showed up to pick up photos of John and have a meeting about their plans. Over coffee and cake they mapped out territories and shared stories of the many grand daughters that the women tried to set Johnny up with, the way he could eat so many of their home baked goods and still stay rail thin and what a fine boy he was. It was all too much like a wake to Roy and he was glad when the well-meaning ladies left to do their important work.

XXXX

Brett sat in Nina and Andy's living room watching the late movie. Nina joked that they'd owe Brett a week in the Caribbean for his extra hours but Brett hated to admit the young man was growing on him and he wanted to be here to help him. He hadn't intended on staying all night but Nina was worried about the young man in their care, as there had been little change in his memory or condition in three days.

A glance at the clock told him it was time to wake his young charge for a check up. He was purposely fairly loud upon entering the darkened room to see if the kid would wake up on his own. He didn't. Brett turned the light on, noting that the patient didn't so much as flinch. He stood in the doorway watching the rise and fall of his chest that was slightly strained and hitched at times.

"Chet? Time to wake up, buddy. Need to check you out," Brett called while gently touching the boy's shoulder.

John woke but his eyelids were too heavy to open so he lay there listening instead, frantically thinking.

_Where am I? Chet? Chet _… The name rang a bell.

"Cap, you got the wrong bunk … I'm so tired, can someone else clean the latrine?"

The words puzzled Brett but his job was to wake the boy and check his responses so he tried again with a bit more volume and authority.

"Chet Stoker, open your eyes for me."

Gage opened his eyes, squinting at the light, gasping in fear and trying to sit up, forgetting momentarily that it wasn't a good idea. Brett wanted to ask who Cap was but Dr. Bridgewater warned everyone to let memories come as they did with no pressure.

"Easy kid, I just need you awake, you don't have to get up and salute," Brett said, a small smile on his face, gently pushing him back down.

Gage's eyes darted around the room. Something definitely wasn't right, but though he tried to figure out what that something was, he failed. He raked his hand over his face as if trying to scrub away the fog in his brain, ignoring the flare of pain in his collarbones. He remembered Brett.

Brett joked about cold stethoscopes as he placed the instrument on Gage's chest, feeling the young man flinch and knowing it wasn't just the shock of the cold. _Damn it, definite rattle starting in his left lung_. Of course there was no way for Brett to know of Gage's propensity for getting pneumonia from chest injuries.

"Okay, Chet, follow my penlight with your eyes without turning your head, okay?"

Gage bit back a scream as the light bypassed his retinas straight into his head. He did as best as he could to follow the light, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered.

"Hurts huh?"

"Y … yes."

Brett took notes in a small notebook. He noted dilated pupils, low blood pressure and possible fluid on his left lung, along with some other numbers, all of which Gage understood very well.

"Hold this under your tongue," instructed Brett as he shook a thermometer and placed it in the young man's mouth.

"N g'ting pneumonia, right?" Gage slurred from the sides of his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so, kid, but in the morning Doc will probably prescribe some antibiotics for you to stave it off if he can. Now, quit talking so I can get a reading."

The warning was friendly and put Gage at ease. It sounded familiar somehow and again a pair of reassuring blue eyes came to his mind.

"102.4. Too high." A hand was applied to Gage's forehead. "I'm going to give you something for the fever. It'll also help with the pain. Doc said you could have some pain relievers if you passed the neuro check and you did. Still have a concussion but you woke and oriented yourself which is saying something."

Gage's eyes slipped closed again but a soft voice called to him.

"Hey, Chet, you have to stay awake long enough to take your meds, pal."

The water felt good on his fiery throat but the pills really wanted to take up permanent residency somewhere near his tonsils. After he finally swallowed, Brett shined the light into his mouth instructing him to say _ahhh._ Brett shook his head and made another notation in his little book.

"Go back to sleep. It's the best thing for you right now." Brett slipped from the room shutting off the light. He decided not to go sleep tonight in light of the fever his patient developed.

In the morning, stiffness took up residence in every part of John's body. After forcing down a little bit of oatmeal at the insistence of Brett to line his stomach for his meds, Andy helped Gage to the car for his appointment with Doctor Bridgewater.

XXXX

"Chet Stoker, the doctor will see you now," a pretty young nurse called.

Gage looked up long enough to notice the pretty nurse but didn't budge.

"Chet, they called you, dear." Nina nudged him gently.

"Oh!" _Damn, why did I give them that name?_

Nina really looked like she wanted to come into the exam room with him but she restrained herself. After all, he wasn't her son, and he was a full-grown man … maybe.

The sway on the way to the exam room didn't go unnoticed by Doctor Bridgewater.

"Doc, here's Brett's notes from last night. He examined Chet every hour."

"Thanks, Nina. I'll let you know how our mystery man is holding up soon."

Gage was tall enough to shuffle onto the exam table. A nurse helped him take his borrowed shirt off noticing how he wrapped his arms protectively around himself as well as he could with his injured collarbones.

"Cold? I could get you a gown?"

Gage didn't know what was worse, sitting here half naked now that he was wide awake and could appreciate the awkwardness of that or enduring one of those backless wonders that were pretty much made of paper anyway and didn't provide any warmth at all.

Doctor Bridgewater had seen worse injuries in the course of his career, but only in inpatients. His patient's torso was mottled in blues and greens with angry red wounds in the middle of the bruises where the rocks had smashed into him on the cliff. Bridgewater was glad he was retiring soon. Decisions like the one to let this very injured young man leave the hospital were better left to the young doctors coming in, he felt. Regret had plagued the old Doc for nights and after taking Gage's temperature it rooted itself firmly.

The old Doc sighed.

"Chet, you should be in a hospital on IV fluids and complete bed rest."

"M' fine, Gage murmured." _Chet … Chet. I know that name! Who is he?_

But he wasn't. Pneumonia was a real threat at this point.

Gage tried to stifle a cough and sit up straighter, causing him to gasp in agony but he remained firm in his oath to leave should they try to call a transport ambulance to a hospital.

Bridgwater noted that at least the concussion was subsiding, the knot on Gage's head was somewhat smaller and he was able to focus on the fingers that waved back and forth before his face but the doctor was still troubled by the slow, uncertain answers given by his young patient when asked about the date and his age.

John flinched when Bridgewater gently pried the lid of his eye down to have a peak inside. The bruising on his cheek and around his left eye socket was still very tender.

"Is-is it still there?" Gage asked sarcastically.

"Your eyeball?"

"No, my brain. Feels like part of it fell out."

"Let me check over here," Bridgewater said chuckling lightly and moving on to check Gage's ear.

Bridgewater tugged John's earlobe resulting in the same kind of pain that he felt in his cheekbones. John was definitely not impressed with the poking and prodding but he knew what was next by heart and it scared him somehow.

Bridgewater looked in his nose and down his throat and pressed here and there along his ribcage and abdomen.

"When did you have your spleen removed?"

John unconsciously looked down to see the fine scar. He had no memory of this but just looking at it caused a spike of pain in his shoulders and surgical spot and even his leg. He hid his reaction as well as he could but the old doctor didn't miss it.

Bridgewater stepped from the room, leaving his nurse to finish helping Johnny get ready to leave.

"Nina, Andy, how are you holding up with your new guest?"

"Hiring Brett to stay the night didn't help Nina sleep," Andy teased. Nina got up six times to check on the young man."

"Did not!" Nina playfully slapped Andy on the shoulder. I ah, had to … Besides, Andy, if you knew I was up, that means you were up too."

Andy didn't bother to deny that something about the boy had grabbed him and made him care.

"Yeah, well, I figured Brett might need a hand or something," he said sheepishly.

XXXX

Gage was quiet on the way back to the ranch. His head was killing him despite the strong pain medication and the confusion swimming around in his brain was almost unbearable. Something was coming back to him but not knowing what it was only produced more fuzzy thoughts and made him tired. He'd known since yesterday that something wasn't right, that a chunk of his memory was missing but how much or how long he wasn't sure. Finding out the real date today didn't help matters. He couldn't account for four years and the math it took to figure out that he was twenty-one years old somehow relieved and scared him at the same time. He wouldn't have to run anymore. But all he had to account for the last four years was borrowed clothes and no idea where he belonged.

Gage knew he'd have to tell his rescuers his real name soon. With that came the realization that according to the doctor he'd been injured three days ago. Three days and as far as he knew, no one was looking for him. Fear took hold of him as he tried to overcome the hopelessness this brought into focus. Was he still a drifter, no one looking for him? Well, he _was _found wandering around a highway, wounded, alone … still alone.

John decided to spend one more night with Nina and Andy, not that he had a choice with how tired and sore he was but he didn't want to intrude any more than he had to.

After a restless sleep in the afternoon, Nina sat by her sick houseguest while he slowly and reluctantly ate some soup. When he put the spoon down with a wince at the pinch at his collarbones she checked the time and gave him some more medicine and a wide-eyed Gage found himself sipping broth from a spoon held by Nina. Pink shaded his cheeks, standing out vividly against the pallor but he accepted the spoonfuls until the broth was gone. His eyes drooped and warm blankets fell across his body up to his shoulders and a hand brushed against his forehead before the door closed lightly and sleep claimed him.

_He walked tall down a corridor, a sheaf of papers in hands that tried not to show nervousness. He wore a uniform that felt ten times too big as he clunked into a room where a faceless man sat, waiting to interview him._

_What do you feel you have to offer the citizens of L.A. If you are accepted into 110?_

_He composed himself, willing his mouth to refrain from stuttering. What did he, John Gage, nobody, have to offer? Why did this have to be the first question the guy would ask? He took a deep breath to answer …_

"Chet, hey man, wake up. My mom made supper and she really wants you eat."

Gage cracked his eyes open. At least this time he had the good sense not to be confused by being called Chet.

"Oh, George, right?"

"Yeah, that's really good, you remembered."

Gage looked toward the window. It was dark.

"Mom wants you to come to the living room to eat. Doc says you should get up and move around just a bit to help clear your lungs and keep your circulation up."

George looped his arms around Gage's shoulders and helped him to the living room.

"Thanks," Gage said, ashamed of his weakness.

"Not a problem." George disappeared into the kitchen returning with a plate full of chicken and vegetables already cut into small pieces. The family soon emerged from the kitchen with their own plates. Brett and his wife were also there.

"Chet, this is my wife, Stephanie," Brett said as Stephanie nodded toward the young man propped up on pillows on the couch.

A pitcher of ice tea and one of milk were poured. Flashes of imagery in his mind had Gage not paying any attention when he was asked what he wanted to drink.

_A large, open room with a wooden table with several chairs around it, table set but abandoned with still-clean dishes on it. A dog dozed on a couch off to the left. Echoes of happy banter filled his ears with conversation that he couldn't quite make out. He was comfortable with the memory if that was what this was._

His glass filled with milk. Nina figured it would be good for the young man's bones so she didn't try to give him the option of iced tea or milk when he failed to answer the first time.

George sat next to John and placed a long straw into his milk.

"There, now you won't have to try to pick it up with those bandaged hands."

Gage was relieved and embarrassed to find a tablespoon on his plate. There was no way he'd be able to stab the food with a fork to get it to his mouth right now. He wasn't very hungry but he wanted to stop the look of concern on Nina's face every time she peaked at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He ate all of the vegetables and a quarter of his chicken. The conversation centred mainly on the grape harvest and the plans that Brett and Stephanie made for the upcoming weekend away.

"Are you sure that you can handle three kids for an entire weekend?" Stephanie asked Nina.

"Oh it'll be great to have little ones in the house again," Nina smiled.

"George, I saw Lucy at the Co-op. She said you two had a great time at the barn dance."

George blushed and ducked his head so Andy saved him by changing the subject yet again.

"So, do you follow any sports, Chet?" _Ah, sports, always a good bet, that or the weather and the weather wouldn't do._

Gage thought about it for a second. "No, sir." He looked at his hands willing himself not to fidget. He tried to look Andy in the eyes. There was an air of authority in the man.

Andy talked about baseball and the three other men in the room had a very animated conversation about statistics and trades. Gage enjoyed the banter. It was familiar, comforting even.

Soon Gage found himself being led to the guest bedroom. He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep. Brett stood over him, taking his vials.

"One for the road, humor an old medic," Brett smiled. Gage obediently held the thermometer under his tongue.

_Hm, temp's still a bit too high, but better_ Brett mumbled to himself. He let himself quietly out of the room as the young man fell asleep.

"He's resting comfortably enough tonight. I'll check on him in the morning when I drop the kids off. Be sure to wake him in four hours for his antibiotics and get him to drink something even if he doesn't want to otherwise Doc'll have no choice but to get him admitted to a hospital."

"Thanks, Brett. We'll take good care of him. I just wish I knew where he's from. I really wanted to call the hospitals and police to report Chet Stoker was here in case his family was looking for him but he seems so scared and something tells me he'd bolt and end up worse than if he was with them," Nina said.

"Supposing he even has a family," Andy told her. "We can come up with a thousand scenarios for the young man in there but until he remembers and _if _he wants us to know, we just won't know what his story is."

"I guess you're right," Nina said, picking up empty plates and mugs as her guests prepared to leave to start packing for their weekend away.

XXXX

Saturday dawned clear and bright. Roy hadn't slept and lay quietly beside Joanne looking toward the window. Right about now if all was right in the world, his partner would be camping up in the mountains and would come back on shift on Monday raving about the views and fresh air and trying to recruit Roy and the others to join him next time.

_Or he'd be closing the sale on his ranch, _thought Roy sadly. Roy got up and went downstairs to start coffee. As he passed Chris' room he noticed that Jenny had crawled in with her brother sometime during the night. She did that when she was worried about something or it was storming. He paused for a minute before heading to the kitchen.

Cap and the guys would be coming to pick him up in an hour to resume the search. Police could say what they wanted, as far as the men of fifty-one were concerned this was still an active rescue search. They didn't know Johnny like his shift mates did. Despite all the teasing and the antics of John Gage, he was a level-headed paramedic and a great friend.

Joanne padded into the kitchen yawning. Sleep had been broken for her too.

"Well this is a nice surprise," she said as Roy handed her a cup of coffee.

"You're welcome, but you should have slept for another hour at least."

"Can't, we're going to expand the poster campaign today. We're going outside of L.A. County. The lady's group covered Carson and L.A. yesterday."

"You're amazing," Roy said quietly.

"We'll find him, Roy."

"Yeah … of course."

Chris and Jen got up just before Roy headed out the door with the guys.

"Dad, tell Uncle Johnny hi for me when you find him, okay?"

That hurt. Roy turned to his daughter, putting on the best smile he could muster from the depths of waning hope in his stomach.

"You know I will, princess."

XXXX

Roy hoped to talk to Cap alone sometime today but Chet and Marco rode along with them. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell Cap about Johnny's real age if it came to that. He tried hard not to let it get to him that John never said a word about his past or his age to him in the time they'd been partners. John wanted him to be a part of his life, that much was obvious or he wouldn't have asked him to come look at the ranch with him. Roy guessed if he had a secret as big as John's it would be hard to find a way to tell it too and the consequences enormous.

"John's picture appeared on the local late news last night," commented Cap.

"Yeah, they're going to show it every broadcast," Roy replied."

"I heard it went national," Marco said. "My sister out in Montana said she saw it this morning on their news too.

"Oh no," Roy said accidentally out loud which seemed to puzzle the other men who looked at him strangely.

"Care to share with the class?" Chet asked in his oh-so-annoying way.

Roy took in a deep breath. It would only be a matter of time before someone from the reservation John grew up on in Montana to see his picture and hear the age given with said picture and no doubt alert the media that John was in fact only twenty one, not twenty five like all the newscasts were saying. It was now or never. John's friends deserved to know first.

When the car pulled over the four men sat silently for a minute staring at the spot where John's shirt was found three days ago. The area had been searched many times over but the men knew that finding someone in that kind of brush could require several sweeps and each fought off the fears that John was dead already.

"We'll find him, Roy," Chet said, putting his hand on the paramedic's shoulder echoing what Roy himself had said to his own son only an hour ago. Chet wasn't mistaken that it was on his mind but he shoved that down and stopped the guys from going off for a minute.

"Cap, uh, I need to talk to you all." Roy relied on Cap to silently call for attention. When Mike pulled up he seemed to know instinctively that something important was about to be revealed.

Roy pulled a picture of John out of his pocket hoping that it would say a thousand words and he could cut down on his explanation. The guys passed the picture around unable to stop the momentary happy banter and light teasing of how young John looked in it and how little he'd changed since high school.

Roy accepted the picture back and looked down at it trying not to feel guilty about what he was about to do, trying to find permission for betrayal of a secret that could cost John his job. Roy considered cancelling his announcement and taking Cap aside to tell him first but deep down he knew that by tonight the story of the underage paramedic would make national news and everyone had to be ready.

"When I was going through John's things looking for a picture of him out of uniform, I found this," Roy explained holding up the picture again. "But I also found something else."

A fierce protectiveness came over Roy and he wanted to warn the men, especially Chet from making any disparaging remarks about John once the secret was revealed.

"Johnny faked his I.D. to enter the L.A. County Fire Department four years ago. He was seventeen years old when he became a boot over at 110's and nineteen when we joined fifty-one together. I didn't know."

Roy's eyes came up in challenge but the stunned men said nothing so he went on. "He had a hard life. I'm not prepared to tell you the details I found out. John'll have to tell you himself if … when we find him. He didn't tell me … I don't know everything. He just didn't tell me … I didn't know he was just a kid."

Chet whistled and looked about to say something. Cap shot him a look that clearly said _shut up_ but Chet as usual missed it.

"Kid's a hell of fireman," Chet said, his eyes strangely bright as he turned around and Desoto noted the swipe of his hand across his brow.

Marco muttered something sympathetically in Spanish while Mike's usual quiet demeanour seemed to falter as he too cursed under his breath.

Captain Stanley banged his hand on the car's roof looking at first angry but then softened into a worried frown.

"The public's gonna have a field day with this. Headquarters is gonna want someone's head …"

"I'm sorry, Cap," Desoto spoke for Gage.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm just gonna find a way for them not to get John's head, even if it has to be mine instead. I won't be fired but John …"

Roy was bolstered by the show of support, especially from Chet. He wished John could see the reactions of his friends because once he was found; he was going to need all the support he could get.

Roy shouldered the pack of food while Marco and Chet carried medical gear and Cap carried extra blankets and the radio. They hiked for hours, sometimes calling their friend, sometimes listening for signs of life. There were none.

At noon when they paused for lunch the conversation invariably turned to Gage and if there were signs over the years that the young man was in fact just a kid. It was agreed, of course there were, only they all agreed that John would likely be young at heart for the rest of his life and if they didn't find him soon, that life would be short or over very soon. There were also murmurs of support for the man who was an exemplary fireman and paramedic despite his age.

As the sky darkened, the men were loath to leave the woods empty handed.

XXXX

Joanne Desoto and Emily Stanley had supper ready for the men of A shift when they returned home. Roy was relieved that Joanne had been able to tell the women about John's true age as well before the news reporters would sniff out the story.

Emily Stanley sniffled on Hank's shoulder. "Oh, Hank, he's only a boy. He should be in college, not running into burning buildings or climbing down cliffs saving people."

Cap tilted Emily's head back just a bit so she was looking into his eyes.

"Saving people is John's true calling in life, Em. It meant so much to him that he, for whatever reason, threw himself into it body and spirit."

"I know but…"

Truth was, there wasn't a dry eye in the house but the men had all decided to choke off the lone tears in their beers rather than show them. Chet particularly looked in a bad way.

"Oh, man. I've … Um, the Phantom's been murder on Gage over the years. If I'd … If he'd known, you know…"

"He'd have acted the exact same way, Kelly and I as Captain would expect no less."

Chet smiled gratefully. It was obvious the young man meant a great deal more to him than he liked to let on.

"From now on, I'm gonna treat him more like a little brother," Chet vowed.

"If he's even around at fifty-one anymore when he's found," Mike said glumly.

No one could deny he had a point.

Everyone picked at their food and plans were slowly made to combat the press that would no doubt be starting a national scandal very soon. Cap was elected to call headquarters with a pre warning so someone from public relations could stem the flow of bad publicity about the paramedic service that being so very new stood a good chance of being disparaged by the situation.

XXXX

George's friend Jay from college arrived early in the morning and was filled in quickly on the unexpected houseguest that was staying in the guest room he was supposed to occupy for a month. George took the luggage from his friend and plopped it on the extra bed that had been put into his room.

"Looks like we're roomies even here," George joked.

"I don't mind. You don't snore too badly," Jay said amiably. Jay was dark haired with blue eyes and smooth skin that looked like it had never seen facial hair. George had no doubt that his mom would take one look at Jay and compliment said skin and try to get George to shave off the goatee he was trying out that earned him the nickname Shaggy back at school.

"So, do you want to go horseback riding or go into town first and meet Lucy?"

"I hate to be a drag but I'm kinda tired from the flight. Do you mind if we just watch T.V. tonight, or you could go into town and I could just hang out here and read a book?"

"About the T.V. It's broken."

"Bad news. Let me take a look." Jay was taking a technology course and was a whiz at repairing old radios or T.V.'s or just about anything.

"My dad was hoping you'd say that," George said. He says the guy from the township over charges and arm and a leg and he's only got one arm and can't spare another."

"Well, I can't," said Andy stepping into the room and shaking hands with Jay. "It's good to meet you, Jay, George has told us a lot about you."

"I'll have that T.V. up and running in time for the game, sir," said Jay with a knowing smile. "George told me a few things about you as well."

After a trip to the township over, a new tube for the T.V. was procured and installed and a few loose parts tightened.

"Yes! Game night!" exclaimed Andy happily as the T.V. warmed up to black and white perfection.

"You know, it might be time to consider getting a new T.V." said George. "I hear there's a new fangled invention called Technicolor."

George laughed as his father blushed and denied being cheap.

"Truth is we don't watch much T.V. Life on the farm you know," George gestured to the vast expanse out the window.

Jay looked out and had to agree that the land was beautiful in a bountiful harvest with small barns and a grain and corn silo.

XXXX

Gage cracked his eyes open to the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He momentarily forgot his pain, which slammed back into him the minute he tried to sit up. Feeling like his ribs were on fire, he sunk back down onto the pillows. He shifted, trying to get comfortable but it was useless. His mouth was dry but he managed to swallow his pride and call out for some help.

George entered the room immediately followed by Andy and the ever-curious Jay stood at the door ready to help too. He watched silently wincing as Andy helped the young man on the bed into a brace with pads on both collarbones.

Gage managed in the bathroom shooting a very vehement no, he did not need any help in there. Jay and George were outside waiting and helped him into the living room where Jay introduced himself and Andy went to get coffee for everyone.

XXXX

"Seems our guest is a little better this morning," Andy told his wife who was in the kitchen making waffles and bacon.

"That's wonderful!" exclaimed Nina happily, peaking out the shutter-doors noting that the boy had a bit more color in his cheeks this morning.

"Yeah, and more good news, the T.V. is fixed. Always knew that Jay kid was a good egg."

"Jay told me that we should consider getting a new, color model soon as that tube isn't going to hold out in the old box for very long," Nina smiled.

"Always knew that kid was a rotten egg," Andy said with good humor.

"We have to take horses to the South Pasteur today, and you have to fix the tractor before you watch any T.V. young man." Nina raised her eyebrows at her husband.

"Yes, mom," Andy said, earning him a face-full of oven mitt and a playful smack on the arm.

They both gathered trays to take to the living room.

"You know, I could get used to eating in the living room."

"Well, don't, as soon as Chet is well enough to sit at the table, we will eat like a family again."

Andy placed a plate and a coffee in front of John and went to turn on the T.V.

"Oh no you don't, we talk during meals," Nina scolded.

Jay and George just shrugged and answered Nina's questions about college life and future plans.

Gage listened in silence as George and Jay animatedly talked about school sports and their very different curriculums. John had nothing to contribute to the conversation so he ate in silence managing to enjoy the taste of food for the first time since the accident.

As George talked about his medical curriculum, Gage found himself paying rapt attention and understanding a lot of what George was talking about. He drifted from the conversation momentarily, closing his eyes as the food in his stomach made him comfortably sleepy. George went on about airway insertions and I.V.'s and John began to hear a different voice in the back of his confused brain and images he just couldn't place in his reality.

_He was nervous, the orange held a little too firmly in his hand squirting juice all over himself and … someone else, someone he should know. The orange was pried gently from his hand and a gentle chuckle and word of instruction was given as a needle plunged into the orange and was thrust back to him to try it again. The orange didn't seem to mind._

_Next, his sleeve was rolled up and a small sting was felt in his bicep. 'Relax, trainee, it's only sterile water.'_

The voice belonged to someone else Gage felt he should know but it wasn't comforting. He couldn't figure out who they were and the more he tried, the more strained he became and his head hurt.

As Jay and George led the young man back to his bed and gave him his meds, the T.V., which would have revealed all, remained off.

XXXX

Roy took the night off at the not too subtle suggestion of Dr. Brackett. Night shift would have been hard after so many days of non-stop searching. The rest of the men of fifty-one reluctantly reported for duty, their minds on the search.

Roy sat with Joanne on the couch, neither knowing that their children were perched at the entrance to the living room listening to the late newscast when they should have been sleeping.

"Here it is, turn it up, Roy."

"Today marks a sad day for L.A. County Firemen. One of their own, twenty-five year old John Gage has been missing for three days. We go now to the site where the fireman was last seen. Bob, what can you tell us about the missing man?"

"Well, Judy, Mr. Gage is a Paramedic with the L.A. County Fire Department which is a program many still believe to be in its infancy and is far from being the perfected model citizens could expect by now of other government run services."

"What does this have to do with finding Johnny!" Roy was already on his feet pacing angrily.

"Bob, is it true that this is not the first time the missing man has been injured or otherwise compromised on the job?"

"Indeed, Judy, this reporter has learned from reliable sources which I can't name that Gage is a loose canon seen by many as irresponsible and lacking the skills and maturity to perform the very life and death duties entrusted to him by the County."

A picture of Johnny appeared on the screen, the one that Roy had turned over to the news stations himself. And now the press was having a field day. There was no mention of the heroics Gage had employed to save the woman and her infant, no praise for the countless lives and property he'd saved, no word of the gentle soul who mourned the loss of every single patient they lost. And this was before they'd even found out Gage's age!

Before Joanne could stop him, Roy had his coat on and was heading out the door, keys jangling loudly in his hands.

"Go to bed," he snapped at his children, slamming the door only to open it back up and scoop Chris and Jen into his arms and apologize to Joanne.

He carried his children to their beds, kissed them both on the forehead and reminded them that things always got darker before the dawn. Jenny hugged him and said she forgived him. He didn't have the heart to correct her word, it was perfect for right now and so very needed.

He headed out again, closing the door softly. There would be doors to slam at the news station.

Without knocking, Roy barged into the newsroom, demanding to speak with the manager.

A short and stocky middle-aged woman with squeaky wedge shoes ushered him into her office as she dragged on a cigarette before squashing it out in an overflowing amber ashtray causing ash to plume up over the messy desk.

"What can I do for you?" she asked indifferently, his behaviour clearly not a surprise to the woman though he had yet to introduce himself.

"I'm John Gage's partner, Roy Desoto. I don't know whom you talked to about Gage but you got it all wrong. How dare you report that John's irresponsible. He's one of the best men I know."

Before Roy could stop his rant, using all his restraint not to stand up and tower menacingly at the woman before him, the outer office was once again filled with commotion.

"You will retract that statement or you will face defamation charges," came Hank Stanley's voice as footsteps grew louder coming toward the little smoky office Roy was in.

Within fifteen minutes, the small office was filled and overflowing with the men of fifty-one and at least fourteen other very fired up firemen. The parking lot was bathed in strobes of flashing red lights signifying that some squads and engines had showed up to protest, keeping themselves available to the citizens of L.A. County still of course, but sticking up for their friend.

The stout woman smiled sardonically as she pressed a call button on her desk.

"Rick, please take a camera outside and get a shot of our fine public servants using public property for their own agendas."

Rick walked down the hall to the exit doors, one hand on his very large camera, one over his head in genuine and very valid fear that he would be attacked.

Hank took charge with the captain of 110 who had been in the area returning from assisting at a fire to calm the men and file them from the building before the obviously scandal seeking newscasters would have any more dirt to fling.

Even as they pulled away, a hastily made up female reporter was shouting lies into her microphone. Mike couldn't help disobeying his Captain's orders to remain silent and retreat, there was a first time for everything and the quiet man knew this was it.

The reporter practically jumped out of her stilettos as Mike let the siren wail drowning out her venomous lies. The other squads and engines followed suit. The news would get out but Mike's anger was momentarily mollified.

Cap tapped Mike on the shoulder but said nothing. Mike let out a sigh of relief as he gladly accepted latrine duty for a week.

Roy's car seemed to drive itself to the station rather than home. He knew he should go home but he didn't want to take his foul mood out on Joanne or the kids.

Sometimes silent, sometimes loud, indignant solidarity took hold of the men as they sat at the table with cups of coffee.

"You'd think people would want to find a fireman who risked his life to save someone to be found safe and sound, that it would make a better story than a scandal about the service in general. I just don't get it," Chet fumed in frustration.

"Scandal sells, Chet, look at when Drew was killed by a car in the line of duty and instead of honouring his life a few news stations interviewed the woman he pulled over to ticket for speeding and disparaged his life's work. They made it look like it was Drew's fault that he got killed, not the person speeding or the person not paying attention."

"And now they're saying it's Gage's fault that he's …"

"_Missing, Chet, just missing, not dead. We'll find him."_


	5. Chapter 5

Roy's head rested on the table at the station. The men listened to two more newscasts from stations that joined in the tabloid-like character assassination of John Gage. Still other stations refrained from the cheapness of it all but simply reported him as missing and wished his station mates a speedy retrieval, whatever that meant.

It all led to talk about the funeral of a fallen firefighter last year in which the media had a hay day following the casket-bearing engine to the cemetery, at times weaving in and out of the funeral procession to take pictures and finally causing an accident leading to the nervous breakdown of the man's widow. Roy couldn't understand the insatiable curiosity that leads people to such crass behavior. Thinking on this case and the aftermath of Drew's death, Roy knew they were in for a lot more trouble.

Just when no one could find anything else to say, a knock came to the door. Marco sighed and got up to answer, not feeling like company in their little home away from home where they could at least be honest with each other.

"Kristy. What are you doing here?" Marco asked in a none-too-friendly way. He couldn't help it. News people didn't exactly instil confidence right now.

"I'm here for an interview," Kristy said, striding in without being asked.

"Now, listen, Kristy, if you're here to further kick Gage and the rest of the guys when we're down, you can go on home. We're not interested," Roy said.

Kristy seemed not to have heard him. She poured herself a cup of coffee as bold as brass and sat down opposite Cap, a pen poised in her polished hands.

"So, you guys want to tell me what really happened and we'll get the ball rolling on finding Johnny Boy."

Roy was irritated until he realized what she said. Kristy may be a lot of things but a liar she wasn't. When her article on the paramedic firefighters came out after she'd had a ride along with them it was a glowing report based on fact and research.

Resigning themselves to the fact that there was little left to lose the men of fifty one all shared stories of Johnny's accomplishments over the years. Kristy was truly impressed and wished she'd asked these questions before her last report on the paramedics went to press.

"You should know fellas that there's something else KMPG is planning to put out about John. I wanted you to know first…"

Before the words were out of Kristy's mouth, Roy stopped her.

"How did they find out?"

"You mean you guys knew about this!" Kristy stormed, flinging a carbon copy of unpublished article from KMPG with the headline, 'child fireman' splashed across the page. Black carbon clung to her fingers which she absentmindedly flicked through her hair in frustration while she refused to say how she'd obtained said copy.

"Not until after Gage went missing, Kristy, I assure you. If we'd known, departmental procedures would have been followed. Not that we have a precedent for that type of thing…"

"Someone who knew John from school phoned in to the station … not to rat him out you understand, they were just concerned that Gage's real age wasn't given out and worried that it might have an impact on finding him."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well, boys, I'm good at what I do. But you have to let me spin things my way. Stay out of my way and be ready to step in when I need you."

_Great_, Roy thought, _our lives in the hands of someone Johnny dated twice who couldn't stand him before that._

"Um, Kristy, not to pry or anything but you and Gage dated a few times, right?"

"Yeah, Roy, John's a nice … uh, man, but it wasn't meant to be." Kristy bit her lip and smiled a little recalling the dates she'd had with Gage. He always seemed so full of life and young and now she knew why, not that she was much older than him but five years really did make a difference and though she didn't know it at the time, that's why he seemed so immature to her. They'd kept in touch a bit since those dates, not a real friendship but a certain understanding had at least developed and Kristy felt that the young paramedic had helped her grow up. The irony of it all struck her hard now.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," said the dubious Desoto.

"Okay, I think the best strategy is to let KMPG strike first and then jump in with both feet. Don't get me wrong, guys, in this case, the truth will not set us or Gage free but it's what we need to tell."

"I just wish we didn't have to do this until we find John," said Mike.

A thought seemed to occur to everyone all at once.

"You don't think John would …" Roy searched his brain for a good way to say what he feared but there was nothing other than, "…run away, do you? You know, once we didn't get to him right away and he figured that the gig would be up or something?"

"I don't think Gage would run away. I think he'd face the firing squad, a.k.a. headquarters and fight for his job if he thought someone found out because he'd gone missing," Cap said.

The words of wisdom settled on everyone who agreed. It would be a tough road for John when and if he was found but they were ready to support him.

Kristy finished up taking statements from all of John's co workers and Cap called headquarters looking not so much for permission to start damage control as to let them know that John had backing. Cap found himself giving a full speech on how the young paramedic was a vital asset to fifty-one and the city and its people and by the time he was done his boss was yelling into the phone that he wasn't ready to pull the plug on John's career necessarily.

"And Hank, if you ever retire from firefighting, there's probably a presidential candidate who could use a good PR man," shouted the commander through the phone.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Sir. It's just that I know in my heart that John Gage had a good reason for what he did and that his youth has never once stood in the way of his job."

"His record will go a long way in his defence, Hank, and by the way, you're not his only fan. I already received word from Kelly Brackett that he's ready to defend John's career."

"Brackett? But how did he know …"

"Doctor, Patient confidentiality and for many reasons, we're not touching that one with a ten foot hose."

With a little more confidence Hank hung up the phone and returned to his men. Desoto felt a small twinge of sadness finding out that Brackett knew John's real age but it soon turned to gladness because without the right medical information, Gage could have been in trouble many times. Roy did mean to ask Brackett when he found out though.

"You have the support of the department, Kristy," Cap announced as the klaxons went off.

Roy saw Kristy to her car and headed home. He had a lot to tell his wife before he got a few hours sleep and returned to the search.

XXXX

John dreamed when he went to bed that night. Again and again he slid down a long brass pole, a giddy sense of adventure and anticipation with each jump. So vivid was it that he could feel the soles of huge, clunky boots hitting the floor with a loud Thwump Thwump!

The noise startled him into wakefulness as he tried to cling to the fading memories of organized chaos and speed and urgency. The Thwump Thwump continued however after his eyes opened and the sound of pelting rain battered the windows of the shadowed bedroom. To John, the loud noise almost obliterated the light and everything else. It wasn't a good noise. Instinct he had no idea of its origin complained loudly in his gut to get up, to go find out what the noise was. He bit back a cry of pain as he sat, compelled to look down, images of huge pants and boots that were not there floated before him, confusing him.

Gage limped to the window wincing as he opened the shade. A piece of eves trough banged against the house, ripped from its bolts in places explaining the thump thwump sound. The clock on the headboard indicated it was nine in the morning. Gage tried unsuccessfully to fit his own collarbone braces in place but ended up carrying it out to the living room.

George and Jay looked up in surprise.

"Hey it's good to see you up on your own, man," George greeted with genuine happiness.

Jay vacated the seat he was in as it was nearest to Gage. "George'll have to help you put that contraption on, he's the med student. If I do it, you'll end up wired for stereo reception and CB radio."

"Might come in handy to replace the brain space I've lost," John said only half jokingly. "If you can get good reception in a storm like this, you'll earn good money when you graduate. I camped up here a few years back and this huge storm came up and…"

George finished with the brace and waited for John to finish. George had been told that if 'Chet' had a sudden memory not to interrupt, to let him finish and try to keep him calm if it was unsettling or confusing if it was only a half memory or vague awareness of reality.

Gage closed his eyes trying to remember. He had camped, that much he knew but why he thought it was anywhere near where he was now he didn't have a clue. He scrunched his eyes in concentration as if that would do any good.

"Hey, don't hurt yourself," Jay said, trying to keep things light, following George's lead.

George and Jay could tell John was embarrassed at having lost grasp of the brief glimpse of his life.

"Let's have breakfast," George suggested. "Mom and dad went to pick up a few groceries, some _kid food_. Brett's kids are going to arrive at ten and stay the weekend while Brett and his wife go away for the weekend. Let's break open the Lucky Charms first."

Gage tried to get up and follow George to the kitchen. He really felt like he needed to help but the trip from the bedroom to the living room was the most walking he'd done in three days and he had to admit he couldn't make it. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped him.

Jay plopped down on the overstuffed chair and said, "don't worry about it, I'm not planning on helping out either. We're guests." He smiled at George.

George picked up one his mother's chair cushions and whipped it at his friend. He was glad that Jay had picked up on the discomfort of the injured man.

Soon even Gage was enthusiastically devouring coffee, milk and Lucky Charms and breakfast burritos. The steady rest and support was going a long way in his recovery.

Nina and Andy practically dripped into the house, having forgotten to wear raincoats or take umbrellas.

"George, when you're finished up with breakfast, can you give me a hand with the left eves, it's come off again."

"Sure dad," replied George and it was only now that Gage realized that they couldn't hear the steady tapping of the eves against the house from the living room. He kicked himself mentally for forgetting to mention it to George and Jay. Truth was, he'd forgotten about it the moment he'd left the room. It was unsettling to realize how unstable and fragile memory was, even for something so simple. He thought he was getting better.

John wanted to help with the eves, which of course he was turned down flat and lead back to the bedroom for a nap. He instead stood at the bedroom window as George, Jay and Andy fixed the eves in the still pouring rain. Just as they finished, Jay playfully dumped a small rain barrel of water over George's head, causing him to shiver and howl about revenge. Something about that triggered another memory that this time wasn't as welcome as the others.

_He stood in a room with wooden cupboards on one side and high ceilings with furniture rather willy nilly placed around. He opened a door and cold water chorused down his back. CHET! he shouted silently, an image of a playfully mischievous and moustached face floated gloatingly before him calling him a pigeon before fading away. _Gage found himself reaching for the man before him but he fell through his fingers like smoke.

Laughter flooded the living room as the men came back inside to warm coffee from Nina who had a towel wrapped around her head. Gage stood peaking through the door of the bedroom. Everyone was so nice here but not knowing where he belonged was taking its toll. Today he would call his aunt.

Shaking hands poised over the numbers on the phone he'd memorized by heart. A cold, bodiless voice greeted him on the end on the line. "We're sorry, the number you've tried to reach is disconnected, please hang up and try your call again." So he did, the same result was what sent ice plummeting to the pit of his stomach. He hadn't bargained on his aunt moving or not being there. Now he was truly alone.

He must have sobbed out loud, having taken his brace off to lie down and painfully allowed his injured arm to cover his face protectively, a feeling that was so familiar it hurt more than just physically because it didn't begin to hide him from the world he just didn't understand.

"Sh, it'll be okay," Nina sat on the edge of the young man's bed, gently prising his arm down into a proper position where his shoulder and collarbones could rest properly. She winced in sympathy as the bruises showed as his shirt pulled down on his neck.

Gage had replaced the receiver on the telephone and Nina had no idea he'd tried to use it.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked, no differently than she would for Andy or George when they'd woken like this at times in their lives.

"I hope so, 'cause if it isn't … if it isn't then…"

Nina's heart broke for the young man before her and there was little else she could do other than to keep her hand firmly planted in his. She brushed strands of dark hair from his forehead and his eyes closed though it looked like he tried to fight the comfort.

Just as the young man's breathing evened out he was jolted to full awareness as the mattress tilted from Nina leaping up to run into the living room where raised voices were.

These sudden jolts caused Gage to look down at the floor again, the familiar flashes of pants and large boots attached to them that he reached for this time causing a flair of agony to shoot through his entire body when he found nothing but air. Klaxons rang in his mind though his ears could tell the difference. There were none but the sense of urgency propelled him up and out of the room.

"Chloe wanted to jump in the puddles with her new rubber boots so we let her walk here. It's not far … she fell into the irrigation ditch and with the swelling from the rain she's been carried away! We were driving along on the road and Brett stopped the car and jumped in after her. He couldn't reach her. He let himself be carried after her!"

Everyone ran outside except John. No one had called for the fire department or help. He picked up the phone dialling without conscious thought a number that his fingers flicked on their own.

"L.A. County Emergency dispatch, what is your emergency?"

For a moment, John couldn't speak.

"Dispatch, a little girl has fallen into an irrigation system and been swept away by storm surge. We're going to need a squad and an ambulance."

Sam Lanier, L.A. County dispatcher thought the voice sounded familiar but stayed professional. He'd of course followed the ongoing drama of the missing paramedic.

"Address, sir?" Sam Lanier asked, wondering why a person would say squad, rather than paramedics as most people calling in were panicky and either asked for paramedics or if they were unfamiliar with the program asked for ambulances and Sam would decide if sending a squad was warranted.

"Uh … um, hold on L.A."

Now Sam was really confused but would take the time to think on it after he'd gotten the vital information from the man on the phone. No one thought to call him L.A. before, it was a term used by firemen and paramedics and other emergency services when talking on the HT's or radio.

John felt like an invader but he had no choice. He snatched Nina's purse from the end table and looked in her wallet on her driver's license and read the address to Sam.

"Sir, I'm sending the fire department and an ambulance to your location. Where you're calling from doesn't as yet have a paramedic program but help should be to your location within ten minutes. Can you meet them to give further information?

"Ten four L.A." And with that, John hung up the phone before Sam could get his name and hobbled out the door in his sock feet, unable to bend down to put his shoes on.

John stood on the porch, the stairs looking ominous but he forced himself to grip the rail and descend one step at a time.

A man in a white lab coat stained with purple who looked more like a doctor than a wine maker stared at a map of the property. He followed the irrigation ditches with an orange highlighter until they discharged into small lake pond at the far end of the property.

"She could be anywhere!" The man stabbed the map with his marker in frustration, marking an x at every place the irrigation ditches broke off in different directions to service other adjoining farms and parcels of the winery.

Gage shivered in the rain, not used to being outside in several days. In the distance his eyes detected people running alongside the ditches, branching off in disorganized chaos. Gage studied the map over the man's shoulders. He found one spot where the ditches branched off at a very sharp turn instead of in other areas where the ditches turned lazily in circular or oval turns. The tremendous pressure of the storm surge would push anything in the ditch against the opposite side of the sharp turn and hold it there for a short time, especially if the victim was conscious and able to grab onto anything.

The man in the white coat stared at Gage like he was crazy but something pushed Gage to take charge.

"Is that your truck?" he asked the man.

"Yes, hey aren't you supposed to be inside? Andy asked me to look in on you."

"Yeah, but I need you to drive me to here." John pointed to the sharp turn in the irrigation system. "Now. It may be her only hope."

The man didn't need telling twice. He ran to his car only to realize that Gage couldn't possibly keep up. He got in and backed up to pick Gage up.

The bumping of the truck did nothing to help Gage's injuries but he clamped his jaw shut and braced himself from flying around on the muddy terrain.

Gage opened his door and fell out into the mud, pushing himself up as a hand appeared in front of him. He took it, straightening up.

"Go back and pick up Andy, George and Jay. Tell Nina and Brett's wife to keep watching for the little girl and Brett and yell as loud as they can if they see them rushing by."

The man got back in his truck and mud spun from his tires as he did what he was told for no reason other than how calm and collected the young man who had given him the directions was. He seemed so certain.

Gage panted through his pain as he stared upstream against the flow of the rushing water. He pulled some grape vines lose feeling completely useless as even that task seemed beyond his strength. He had seconds before he spotted a small head bobbing up and down in the muddy water.

With precision honed from years of hard labor Gage cried out as he bent at the waist, dropping to his knees, counting his breathes and trying to gauge when the small body would catch in the rounded off shoot.

The tiny girl slammed into the opposite side of the sharp turn corner and was held there momentarily as predicted. She grappled with the edge with her small fingers clawing and making patterns in the mud, fear etched on her tiny face, eyes locked on the only person who could save her.

Gage threw his arms out screaming in pain as the grapevines lassoed the youngster and held in her place even as the current picked up and would have dragged her from the safety of the corner.

"It's gonna be awright sweetheart. It's gonna be awright." But the truth is, John didn't know if it was going to be alright. The current pulled on the tiny burden wrapped in the grapevines even as they began to slip from his grasp. His collarbones ground against shoulder bones, and his ribs burned fuelling the fire in his lungs caused by the heavy panting and swallowing the rain that was falling in sheets sideways.

Gage dug into the wet mud with his toes as his body slid forward down the incline toward the irrigation ditch.

Suddenly his calves were grabbed and he was sliding upwards, the grapevine lassos firmly in his hands. He wouldn't let go. His belly dragged against the ground, his shirt sliding up under his neck pushing his collarbones so harshly up towards his head that black spots danced before his eyes. But he didn't let go.

"He got her!" George's voice invaded Gage's tired brain.

Gage pushed himself up onto one elbow, ignoring the pain, needing to see her for himself. The little girl cried against Jay's shoulder as Nina shrugged out of her coat and wrapped Chloe in it.

_Crying … crying's good,_ the years of forgotten training still managed to stream into John's head. He coughed harshly, trying to turn over.

Andy ran up and helped Gage to his feet though he wanted to keep the young man down until the fire department arrived.

In seconds a new commotion started as Brett came into view fighting against the current. There wasn't time to grab something to reach him with and in the momentary celebration of finding Chloe alive time stood still. Gage dove onto his stomach, bracing for the pain and reached out letting out a loud OOMPH! as his hand closed around a fistful of Brett's tangled hair. The pull on his battered torso was too much but if he let go, Brett would drown.

Andy had nothing to hold onto to steady himself to grab Brett and he knew the man holding him was fading. He cursed his war injury. Jay thrust Chloe at Nina and he and George leaned in and grabbed Andy's belt, Andy grabbed Brett's arm and Gage's grip on Andy's hair finally let go. Everyone's feet sunk in the mud and threatened to slip. Gage didn't register that Brett was safe as he blacked out from the exertion. His body slid into the water and was carried away just as the men turned to haul him back up.

"NO!" shouted Andy as Gage was swept away. George worked on Brett as Jay took off down the bank to watch where the current carried John.

Large mouthfuls of muddy water woke John up as he struggled to stay on the surface grabbing weeds and tree branches as they cut into his already injured hands. His lungs protested as he was swept under and spat back up time and time again unable to even see where he was going. With the heavy rain it was hard to tell up from down and dizziness invited him to give up fighting it.

Sirens screamed in the distance and somehow that sound bolstered the tiny shred of fight he had left in his worn out body.

XXXX

Sam Lanier filled out paper work on the transferred call he had received from out of district. The voice on the other end of the line and the way the person had spoken to him jarred something in his gut.

Sam had been keeping in touch with station fifty-one members on and off duty. The whole department wanted their man found safely. Sam knew that long range HT's had been loaned to men of fifty-one and other departments while they searched for their man. Between calls he allowed himself a personal call.

"H.T. Desoto, this is Lanier, do you copy?"

"Lanier, Desoto here, I copy." Desoto tried to cover the HT with the rim of his hat as rain dripped off the rim.

"Listen, Roy. What is your location?" asked Sam.

Dread and hope filled Desoto's heart all at once as he called in his co ordinates. Did Sam have information?

"Desoto, I don't want to waste your time and I know you aren't authorized to work out of district but …" Sam's voice hesitated on the radio for a minute but he steeled himself. If he was wrong, he was wrong, but a guy doesn't listen to bodiless voices without a certain amount of recognition day after day. For days Sam had sat at his desk expecting the search and rescue to call into dispatch for an ambulance, a squad or a coroner for one of their own so this was better than those scenarios, right? Sam went into professional mode again.

"About a half hour east of your location at 147 East Laurn way, Borean Winery an accident involving a little girl and an irrigation ditch was called in by … someone who sounded just like John Gage and the way he spoke … I'm speaking as a civilian here Roy you understand? I think you should check it out and see if you can assist.

Roy thanked Sam and set out for the long shot. If Gage was indeed the caller he had a lot of explaining to do. People were worried sick out searching in hellish conditions. Roy called each HT and the men of fifty-one quickly made their way back to the vehicles and sped off to the winery and farm.

XXXX

Patches of grey clouds above and large green leaves and fence posts flew by as John scanned for something to grab hold of. Pain was the only thing keeping him awake. As his eyes drooped, he was forcefully pulled back to agony, water forcing its way into his throat. He tried to spit it out, tried to hold his breath when it crested over his face, turning him around and around. He was sucked under, willing himself not to breathe but his body screamed for oxygen and when his shoulder slammed against a slimy side of mud his mouth opened to scream and the bellow of air was replaced by water in his lungs.

Gage's head crested again but this time he didn't have the strength to expel the water he'd taken in. He retched and spit throwing his lungs into a convulsion of a teaspoon of air and what felt like a gallon of water getting through. Once again his vision greyed and he fought to stay afloat.

XXXX

Roy pulled onto the property, willing himself not to get his hopes up.

An ambulance's doors opened and a gurney was rolled out for a little girl, her mother crying as she placed her down on it. A man lay on the ground as firemen worked on him as best they could with their training, giving him oxygen and keeping him warm. Another fire truck was abandoned, as it could go no further through the thinning paths beside the irrigation ditches. The men jumped out and ran alongside, searching keenly through the rain. Roy stopped, identifying himself and his passengers and those behind him asking if they needed assistance. He hopped out and quickly assessed Brett who was breathing on his own with the assistance of the extra oxygen. The little girl was in good hands with George it seemed.

The Captain of seventy eights didn't turn down any offers of help at this point as Nina explained that an already injured man had saved the little girl and helped save the man before he himself fell into the ditch and was swept off.

Roy asked what the man's name was before he set off to assist in the search. He tried to hide his disappointment that his name wasn't John.

Roy's vehicle scraped along the grapevines as he drove where the fire engine couldn't fit. as he picked up two firemen who were running along side the ditch.

Over the rain, a fireman sitting on the hood scouting for signs of the missing man shouted. Ahead where the ditch took a right turn around a narrow S-bend bobbed the dark head a person.

The fireman on the hood held on tightly as Roy gunned the engine as much as was safe and the vehicle came to a stop about a half mile from the direction the man was being shoved along at an alarming pace.

With nothing to use as a handhold and every nano second counting the men acted fast forming a line much like an ice rescue. Desoto flattened himself to the ground on his belly as a fellow fireman grabbed one of his legs. Chet grabbed the other as Stoker and Marco grabbed Chet's belt and the fireman's turnout coat. Desoto slithered into the water, holding his body rigid as the body slammed into his outstretched arms. Hank used his HT to make a call but they were now out of district and nothing but static came through.

XXXX

John tried to draw in a breath, his eyes going wide taking in one last scene; someone was in the water ahead of him as he passed out. They were too late.

XXXX

Roy held on tightly to the man as he was pulled out of the water. He was up on his knees, gently turning the man over in seconds. He forced himself to look at the face, the blue-tinged lips, the dark hair, and the long lashes over a pale face that hid the usual tanned features.

"Johnny!"

Roy froze for a fraction of second, fear and confusion fighting for control before he went into paramedic mode barking orders to bring his advanced first aid box.

Shaking fingers touched skin that was too cold and Roy bit back a sob. No pulse no breaths. Marco started CPR while Desoto began artificial respiration. Stopping after a few minutes and finding no spontaneous respirations, Roy continued as the ambulance pulled up.

John was loaded into the ambulance, Marco and Roy practically a part of the gurney as they synchronized lifting him and continuing with the life saving techniques. The ambulance bumped along, sirens blaring on the short ride to the clinic. Roy got a pulse twice but it faded as quickly as it had started.

Two minutes outside the clinic, Gage's heart gave out. The weak thrum they'd managed to start under his partners practiced hands as he checked his carotid pulse was absent.

"NO! You can't do this, Junior, you hear me. You can't leave!"

Marco momentarily stopped CPR in shock but started right back up again as Desoto once again tilted his partner's head back and continued to breathe for him.

Dr. Bridgewater was waiting when they burst through the doors, jamming themselves through beside the gurney.

Chet took over rescue breathing as Roy panted out vitals and placed the electrodes on his partner's still chest and the doctor readied the defibrillator calling out, "Clear!" as it charged.

A momentary blip on the screen went flat immediately and as the older model defibrillator recharged, Marco and Chet kept up the life support as Roy started an IV and followed Bridgwater's clipped and professional orders for epinephrine and Ringers.

Gage's body arced off the table, his teeth clacking together and settling back to the table slack jawed. Bridgewater didn't think his own old heart would take it. The slight blip on the screen flattened again and he was just about to order another hit, more for the benefit of the young man's friends than for hope that the young man would actually live again when he called a halt as unbelievingly the flat line blipped again sluggishly, picking up by the second.

"We need an airway. The bed was lowered at the head and Bridgewater's nurse opened sterile packets as Bridgewater prepared to insert a tube. Gage's body convulsed and water spewed from deep within his lungs. The bed was hastily flattened again and Gage was rolled to his side as he aspirated. Mud and water hit the floor in waves.

There was no strength left in the boy's body when the unconscious vomiting was over. Even in unconsciousness his face was a mask of a pain and his chest failed to rise again. Bridgewater was strong for his age as he lightly but firmly nudged Roy out of the way to place a stethoscope to his patient's chest. Satisfied that he could insert an oesophageal airway now, he began the procedure. Roy had performed this very necessary procedure himself countless times but it never prepared him to watch as it was done to someone he knew, someone he cared about. This time there was no Dixie to reassure him that John would be okay as a stranger looked after him.

The _click whoosh_ of the ventilator relieved and scared Roy at the same time. The monitors were hooked up and a bag of warmed Ringers solution and D5W was added to the myriad of medicines along with a syringe of adrenaline. A condition known as second drowning could occur at any time.

Gage's lips were still blue lined around the ventilator. His shirt that had been cut open but still clung to his cold body was gently removed with jogging pants that Roy didn't recognize as a part of his partner's wardrobe. Gage was rolled to his side as a clean sheet was placed beneath him and a nurse carefully dried and cleaned him. Roy covered his partner up with a sheet, noting the bruising and lacerations that covered his torso. Gage's hands were covered in tattered gauze that had unravelled and trailed off the table covered in mud and now resembled a mummy's dressings.

"Oh Junior…" Roy began to unwind the dirty dressings from his partner's hands. The ugly red wounds bled sluggishly. He knew how those wounds got there. Roy ignored the mop that ran around his feet that cleaned up the blood and vomit from the floor. The clean pine scent revived him somewhat as it replaced the wet dank smells that reminded him of death.

Marco placed his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Cap said a chopper's being sent once Gage is stable enough to transport. Rampart's waiting for him. It was only now that Roy remembered Sam Lanier.

"Marco, please call L.A. dispatch and ask to speak to Sam Lanier. Tell him his hunch was right and thanks. I'll call him as soon as I know more. Ask him to keep it quiet."

The receptionist at the desk was rescheduling Dr. Bridgewater's regular patients and indicated with a friendly nod that Marco could use the phone.

Gage's vitals dipped dangerously a few times before levelling off nowhere near normal but steady at least. His body temperature was two degrees below normal and warming measures were being started even as the blades of a chopper were heard touching down.

Desoto couldn't let anyone else wrap Johnny up for transport. He tucked thermal blankets around his friend as Stoker and Chet unhooked IV's and repositioned them onto the waiting gurney. They followed the trail of mud made by the wheels of the gurney from the ambulance that had brought him in. Even those were being erased as they ran.

Bridgewater's nurse ran after them down the hall opening a huge golf umbrella with the remnants of wrapping paper that said 'happy retirement' on it fluttering in the harsh wind that was sucked into the clinic when the doors opened. She held it over the gurney. It being a small clinic, they were not afforded the luxury of canopies and weather protection.

Bridgewater waved them farewell as the ambulance carrying the already stable Chloe and Brett pulled up. The old doctor took one last look at the helicopter. His last week of practice had been his busiest.

XXXX

Roy felt his tension ease a fraction when his eyes adjusted to the difference in lighting between the clinic and the helicopter interior. Dr. Brackett had volunteered for the medi-vac.

"Sam called me and I had to come see for myself. Dix is clearing a path for us to an exam room and keeping an eye out for reporters or trouble makers," Bracket told Desoto before scooting over on the seat to make room for him to sit.

Stoker closed the door and ran from the intense down draft from the helicopter as it took off. Johnny's friends thanked Bridgewater and his staff and hurried to their cars to get to Rampart.

Dr. Brackett shined his penlight into his patient's eyes, shaking his head as he did so. Pupil reaction was sluggish and uneven. Another concussion to add to the list. Bracket flipped through a file of papers the nurse had sent with Roy. The name Chet Stoker with no next of kin listed followed by a list of injuries from four days ago.

"Roy get another set of vitals and notify Rampart of our ETA, channel two is secure and Early's manning the base station."

Roy cringed as he listened to the forced, wet respirations of his best friend. There was barely a part of Gage that wasn't covered in black and purple bruises and he winced in sympathy as he applied the BP cuff to the very bruised bicep and squeezed it tight.

Still too low.

Bracket changed the name on the forms he held from Chet Stoker to John Doe. Johnny's secrets would be his own for as long as the hospital could manage.

Brackett's practiced hands ghosted over his patient's body, finding in addition to the injuries listed previously, an additional broken right wrist and swelling near the right pelvic bone. He ordered X Ray to meet him in exam room two upon arrival.

Normally orderlies would meet the chopper but today Dixie, and Dr. Morton unloaded the chopper with Roy and Brackett and sped off to exam room two.

The emergency department wasn't crowded. Brackett had to practically drag Roy out of the room for the X Ray tech to do his job on John Doe. At this point, Roy didn't care about the radiation, he would have stayed and he was the first back in the room as the portable machine was wheeled away.

A pocket of swelling appeared under John's right clavicle and his collarbones jutted out at odd angles. It was a small mercy he was comatose as the pain would be intolerable. Dixie picked up the phone and nodded her head gravely at the voice on the other end. Before even turning to tell the others in the room the X Ray reports, she put an OR on standby.

"Kell, his right collarbone splintered and nicked an artery."

"Damn it. Well, that explains the swelling."

Brackett hated to involve others but he called the best anaesthesiologist Rampart had to meet them up in OR. John was in no fit shape to undergo surgery and he wanted the best to improve his chances. Bracket asked for a brief consultation in the exam room with the anesthesiologist. There would be no lying to this man, he would need a complete history of the patient in order to do his job and he was familiar with Johnny Gage, having operated him on him twice previously.

Dr. Lee whistled softly when his eyes fell on John Gage, the missing and very young fireman. His professionalism wasn't dropped however in his momentary sigh of relief and Bracket felt his shoulders relax just a little.

"What have we got Kel?"

Brackett filled in the older man who agreed that there was no choice to but to operate now. Blood had been put on standby and Roy started another IV in Gage's other battered arm at Brackett's orders.

As the gurney and its precious cargo was wheeled towards the elevators, the rest of the men of fifty-one arrived. There wasn't time to stop for possible farewells to the unconscious man so quick, gentle pats on the foot as he was whisked away were given as signs of solidarity. Marco crossed himself and said a brief quiet prayer. Roy's eyes met Stoker's as the elevator doors shut but he didn't take his hand from Johnny's. He didn't care what anyone thought. This might be the last time he saw his partner alive.


	6. Chapter 6

Joanne and the wives and girlfriends from several fire stations arrived back the Desoto house just after dark. The phone rang and Joanne shushed everyone as politely as possible so she could hear her husband.

"Jo, listen, you can't tell everyone yet. We found Johnny. He's in bad shape … We don't know if ah … he'll make it. God, Jo he's so broken."

Joanne tried to keep her face impassable as Roy's words brought relief and daggers of fear at the same time.

"I see," was all she could say to her husband who so clearly needed to be told that everything would be okay. The other ladies might hear.

"If you get a chance to be alone with any of the guys from fifty-one's wives, you can tell them. I'm sorry to put you in this position but the last thing John needs is reporters and people in his face right now if he … when he wakes up."

"Have faith, Roy. Call me if anything changes."

Joanne took a deep breath and smiled as best she could. She stuck her head around the kitchen door. "Emily, could you please help me make up a tea tray? I'm sure the ladies are tired from all of the travel and canvassing today."

Cap's wife's instincts were on high alert as she followed Joanne into the kitchen. Joanne broke down a bit telling Emily in whispers that Johnny had been found but they couldn't tell anyone outside the fifty-one family yet.

Setting the tea service down with cookies and snacks on the table, Joanne turned on the television. If anything happened, if their secret was betrayed she wanted to hear about it first.

The older ladies from the woman's auxiliary were particularly upset about the news of John's true age, having heard the venomous KMPG's account of it on the late news last night. Prone to gossip, however well meaning it was wasn't helping Joanne's nerves any. She tried to tune them out as they mused about why their favourite first aid instructor would lie like that.

Joanne flipped to the news channel, feeling slightly guilty for indulging the lady's gossip. She knew Kristy's report was due out today and hoped it would shed a more positive or at least non-judgemental side of John's story. She shushed them when Kristy came on the air.

"I stand here in front of L.A. county fire department fifty-one where I spoke with John Gage's shift mates last night. While reporters and some members of the public are having a field day turning the L.A. County fire department in general inside out with queries about what went wrong to allow a seventeen year old to join the fire department and subsequently the paramedic program, this reporter wants to take this investigation into a new direction and shed some light on the successes of this extraordinary young man during his career."

Interviews with Mike, Marco, Chet, Cap and Roy were all shown to the public for the first time and the public and those gathered in the Desoto home could see that the men had no doubt about the young man's abilities as a fireman and paramedic. There was nothing but praise in clips from personnel from other firehouses as well.

Kristy had outdone herself. She had even interviewed people who owed their very lives to John Gage. One particularly tearful account came from a young mother whose child had been saved from certain death in an apartment fire.

"I don't care how old John Gage is. He saved my little girl's life and I can only imagine what his own mother must be going through with him missing in the line of duty. My church has started a prayer circle for this hero to be found safe."

Joanne swallowed back tears. She knew the truth about Gage's parents.

When Kristy was done, Johnny Gage was painted the hero he was but Kristy had explained to Cap and Roy that it was best not to deny the age or circumstances if it came right down to it. Joanne knew as Kristy signed off showing the picture of Gage that all hell was about to break loose once the world found out John had been found.

Tea was drunk, cookies were nibbled in silence as the channel was changed and a reporter from KMPG appeared in a live broadcast from in front of station fifty-one where Kristy had filmed earlier.

KMPG has breaking news this hour about missing fireman John Gage. An unnamed source tells us that Mr. Gage was a runaway from a reservation in Montana. His mother died when John was an early teen and John was a difficult child for his stepfather to raise. John hitchhiked to California where his Aunt Rose helped him falsify his records to join the fire department. Both stepfather and Aunt have passed away since. KMPG is investigating claims that John's academic records were also forged, casting further doubt on the ability of the fire department to provide quality personnel to the people of L.A. County. To find out more of the lies surrounding the man who played paramedic, stay tuned in the following days to KMPG. We'll bring you the latest as soon as we get it."

"His academic records were not forged!" Joanne sobbed, unable to keep it in any longer. He graduated high school a year early with honors. Those high marks, all his hard work, and no graduation, no nothing."

"Sure, Johnny may be young, but Mike says he's one of the best men he knows. He trusts John with his life," said Beth Stoker.

"They're making our Johnny sound like El Diablo," said Mama Lopez.

A knock came to the door and all the ladies were ready to pounce on whomever it was if they brought bad news.

Kristy stepped inside fuming something about damage control. She followed Joanne to her bedroom where Joanne had put all of John's personal documents. Joanne handed Kristy John's diploma and Kristy said she'd check its verification as soon as the county clerk's office opened in the morning.

"Gage may be a lot of things but stupid isn't one of them, in a weird way through all of this, neither is he dishonest. He wouldn't have joined the program if he didn't have the qualifications."

"Roy wouldn't have accepted his application either," Joanne told the fired up young woman.

"Think like a reporter, Joanne," Kristy told her. "They're going to make your husband and John Gage's friendship into a game. They're going to say that Roy let his fondness for Gage influence his acceptance into the paramedic program."

Kristy held her hand up as Joanne was about to protest.

"I know it isn't the truth but I'm a reporter, I know these things. It's going to be ruthless, Joanne. You will even need to be prepared.

Roy had told Joanne to tell Kristy that John had been found. Kristy would need time to figure out damage control and angles for the report if they were to be the first to report the news.

"Kristy, John's been found. He's at Rampart. I just got the news twenty minutes ago. So far only Dr. Kelly Brackett and a few firemen and staff at Rampart know but it won't be long before word gets out. He's in surgery and … things aren't looking good. I don't know the details. Roy's trying to buy the hospital and John time. So far he's listed as a John Doe during the rescue and transport to the hospital."

At that moment Jenny stuck her head around the corner of the door. "They found Uncle Johnny? Mommy you need to tell them that Johnny wouldn't be a Doe, he'd be a buck, a girl's a doe. Uncle Johnny's not a girl even if he does play tea party with me."

Jenny ran down the hall, Kristy and Joanne tripping after her as the little girl's mouth opened, "Chris! Guess what!"

"Jennifer Desoto, come here right now young lady." Joanne's tone was harsh but it was the only way to deter the determined young girl. Jenny turned around and walked back to her mother with huge, bewildered eyes, wondering why news of her favourite uncle being found wasn't something to shout to the world.

"Jennifer come in mommy and daddy's room for a minute," Joanne said.

The ladies in the living room went back to their sad gossip as Joanne gently pulled Jenny down the hallway and closed the bedroom door.

Relief crossed the mother's face when Kristy took over.

"Jennifer, how would you like to be a reporter for a day?"

"Would I!" Jennifer shouted. "But just wait, I have to go tell Chris Uncle Johnny's been found."

"We can tell Chris in a minute and make him a reporter too. But as a reporter there are only a few people we can tell. Being a good reporter means keeping your contact's confidentiality. Right now your Uncle Johnny needs his privacy, do you know what that means?"

"That he doesn't want to see us?" Jennifer Desoto's eyes began to water. The little girl had stayed up past her bedtime several days in a row until Joanne caught her with a flashlight under her covers coloring missing posters in her bed to hang up around the neighborhood.

"No, honey, not at all," Joanne said, wrapping her daughter in her arms. This was all so complicated.

"Your Uncle Johnny wants to see you of course but right now he can't." Kristy looked at Joanne for permission to continue. Joanne nodded. The truth might as well come out to someone.

"Your Uncle Johnny is injured right now and we need to give him time to get better. Right now there are all sorts of people who want him to tell them where he was and what happened to him and other things, but he's not up to it right now. I think he'll want to see you and Chris and your dad and mom first before he talks to anyone else, right?" Kristy was good; she knew what she was doing.

"Is daddy with Uncle Johnny right now?"

"Yes, daddy's with Uncle Johnny at the hospital and you remember nice Doctor Brackett and Nurse Dixie? Well, they're all working to make Uncle Johnny better."

"If Daddy's with him, he'll be okay," Jennifer asserted.

Joanne sent Jenny to get Chris and Kristy inducted him into the secret reporter club too.

"Joanne I really should get to Rampart. We want to get the jump on the news that John's been found and we want to control the details. I'll hold it as long as I can but we don't want KMPG to get this first, it'll be murder. Rampart would become a circus. If I get details and wrap up with Roy and the guys, maybe the hospital administrator can get a jump on security."

"Thanks, Kristy, for everything." Joanne hugged the young woman who made her way to the front door, accepting a paper cup of coffee and a few cookies to go.

XXXX

Roy stood against the wall in the OR waiting room while his exhausted shift mates sat with hunched shoulders.

Dixie sent a candy striper up with a cart of hot coffee and sandwiches. A cup was pressed into Roy's hand and he absently sipped it before he even registered it was there. Cap clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Come sit down with us, Roy. Holding up the walls isn't going to make things go faster." It wasn't a request and Roy was glad.

"What are we gonna' do Cap?" Roy looked up at his Captain.

"Well, we're going to take things one a time for one thing. We're going to take care of our man. We're going to get him well, that's the main thing, the rest will come and we'll stand by him. For now, let's get him back. In every way."

That simple statement cleared the fog off the situation. It was wisdom one would expect from a Captain like Hank. First, find life, than face it head on.

XXXX

Two hours later found Roy pacing again. He wasn't the only one. Kristy had arrived and had interviewed everyone but Roy. The elevator dinged and two more people stepped off it and strode up to Captain Stanley.

"We were told we'd find you here," explained the woman. "I'm Nina, this is my husband, Andy."

Nina informed Cap and the guys that Chloe and Brett had been sent on to Rampart by ambulance after being checked out by Dr Bridgewater back home and both were being kept for observation for a few days but were stable and expected to make a full recovery.

"That's great news," Cap said sincerely.

"Nurse McCall sent us up here to find out from you about Chet," Nina said.

At this, Chet's ears perked up.

"I'm Chet Kelly," he introduced, extending his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, but we were talking about Chet Stoker."

Cap cleared his throat and finding that Roy didn't seem able to speak at the moment led the two newcomers to sit down. Completely puzzled about why Nina and Andy had called John _Chet,_ everyone sat down and Nina and Andy filled the guys in on John's last few days.

"I found him wandering the road, injured and exhausted. I convinced him to come to the clinic with me but he would have no part of going to a hospital so I had no choice. When I asked him about family he clammed up and was going to take off so I had to back off."

Nina and Andy felt rather foolish about not finding out the boy's real identity. It had been on the news for two of the four missing days but their television hadn't been working or wasn't watched when it was finally fixed. With everyone looking for a twenty-five year old firefighter/paramedic named John Gage coupled with the bruising on the boy's face obscuring his looks and him giving a false name, and being so far out of district, no one who had come into contact with _Chet Stoker_ put two and two together.

Cap shifted uncomfortably as Roy took over explaining things to the people who had saved Johnny's life. His voice took on a harsh tone at first, daring them to say anything against the man who lay beyond those doors fighting for his life but it was the last thing Nina or Andy would do.

"His name's John, Johnny Gage. He's a good man. We were doing a helicopter rescue from a car that went over about a half mile from where you described you found Johnny the next morning. John saved a woman and her baby that day and before we could get him back aboard the chopper we had mechanical problems and we had to leave him behind …"

Roy turned his back to Nina and Andy for a minute, clearing his throat, and trying to rid himself of memory of John getting smaller and smaller until fading from sight as the chopper sped away from him, leaving him alone on that cliff during a mudslide.

Cap explained that they couldn't get another chopper right away due to brush fires and by the time they were airborne it was impossible to find their missing man.

"Dr. Bridgewater said Chet … um, John has amnesia. He remembered common things but was missing years and chunks of his life. My son said he told him he was from Montana and hoped to settle here in California if he could find a job."

The present tense way that Nina talked confused Roy for a minute.

"But John has a … ohhhhh."

Everyone exchanged nervous glances.

The journal that Roy had read made sense now to explain the present and the past that had reared its ugly head once more to claw John back to a painful time when he was all alone in the world. Just the thought that John had spent the last four days thinking he was utterly alone and injured was enough to send Roy sliding down the wall he'd been leaning on for support. He buried his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me, Junior? Why?"

Cap and Stoker led Roy to sit down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Roy listened with a heavy heart to Nina and Andy. At least John had a comfortable bed and medical care for some of his ordeal. Roy had no idea how he was going to help his partner if he was still four years in the past when he woke up. He wouldn't even know Roy and some of the things in that journal …

Roy told Andy and Nina things they would have learned on the news anyway now that they'd be looking for it. They had to know, soon reporters would be camped outside their home asking them about their aiding and abetting a … what? … Young paramedic? A liar? No, a hero, and Roy was going make damn sure everyone knew it.

Gage's life story was going to come out, there was no denying that and Roy, carefully leaving out a few terribly painful things from the journal explained some of the reasons Gage may have had for doing what he did, lying to get into the firefighter training program early.

Nina's eyes were full of tears when she learned who she truly gave safe haven to for four days and she was thankful that they young man had survived. Andy comforted his wife praying that John would survive and vowing he would be there for him if needed.

XXXX

Like all seasoned reporters, Kristy had stealth on her side. She'd taken in the touching scene unfold before her as Andy and Nina, rescuers of the rescuer were brought up to speed on John Gage's life. She cleared her throat and hugged Roy, apologizing for standing in the shadows and getting permission to print and report aspects of the conversation she'd eavesdropped on.

Roy knew Andy and Nina were good people when they at first rounded on Kristy in defence of their mysterious former houseguest only to back off once Kristy announced she was on their side.

The sad thing was, even after a time if Gage healed and didn't go to jail for fraud against the citizens of L.A. county, he may not have a job anymore and that would kill him. Roy reminded Kristy of this but even the hard-nosed reporter had no guarantees how much her spin on things would help sway the public or jury or fire headquarters.

"We could always give him a job out at the winery," Andy told Roy. "He says he's good around horses, of course, no offence meant but I don't know how true that is."

"Oh it's true. I've seen him with horses. He can lead a spooked horse out of a barn fire. He just has a way about him. But my partner's a fireman-paramedic through and through. I just don't know what this is all going to do to him."

It was testament to the basic goodness that was John Gage through and through that perfect strangers sat among friends to defend the boy.

The door to the OR opened and a very tired Dr. Brackett stepped out. He'd been planning to take Roy aside to speak to him about John since Roy was listed as next of kin but seeing the concerned look of all present, he approached the group at large.

"Johnny's in recovery. We were able to stop the bleeding from his collarbone nicking the artery in his neck. It's touch and go at this point with the extent of trauma to his torso. His pressure's still very low but with the transfusions it's improving slowly. Orthopaedics has set his arm and stabilized his collarbones into a firmer brace. Once he's out of recovery he'll be moved to the ICU. Visitation will be restricted to two at a time, five minutes only. Roy, pal, I'm going to turn over responsibility of who gets to visit to you, beyond that list, no one gets in. You can go in now if you like but everyone else will have to wait until he's moved."

Sighs of guarded relief swept the room.

The relief was short lived as Kristy reminded them that she was to go live with the breaking news of the newly found John Gage. Everyone knew the floodgates were about to open but they were all going to stand in the way of John getting swept away from them again.

XXXX

Roy opened the door to John's room slowly. He thought he'd seen him at his worst lying in the mud back at the winery, blue lipped and completely unresponsive. Somehow the noise of the machines surrounding his partner made it all that much worse. It was all so artificial. John looked impossibly small for his height in the bed under sheets nearly the same colour as his pale face. His hair was cleaned of the mud, combed back in a way he would hate if he was awake but his captain would approve highly of. Roy fought to find his voice.

"I should call Cap in here, John, I think for once your hair looks regulation, the way you usually comb it seems longer."

_Well that was dorky for my first words to my partner,_ thought Roy, but he just didn't know what to say. What do you say to a guy whom you realize suddenly that you don't know as well as you thought you did? For a minute, Roy allowed a little bit of hurt to seep under his skin that John felt he couldn't come to him with his secrets but it vanished quickly when he realized that like always, John probably didn't tell him because he didn't want to get him implicated in the lies. John was always going on about how important it was for Roy to go home each night because he had a family, someone who would miss him … _Oh, God Junior, please tell me you know how important you are to us._

The more Roy thought about it, the more he realized that John had always taken more risks and always tried to be the one to go first when the situation called for a certain amount of daredevil responses. _He figured he had less to lose and less people to miss him._

These thoughts hit Roy hard and he sat down heavily, taking his partner's hand in his own. Cold seeped from John's hands to his. He folded John's hand in both of his and tried to convey some warmth, taking comfort in the fact that at least John's features were relaxed and he wasn't in any pain at the moment.

The click-whoosh of the ventilator kept time like a metronome, Roy mesmerized by the mechanical rise and fall of his partner's chest. It was all so wrong. Time blurred and John was moved to the ICU.

One by one the men of fifty-one came and went from the room, feeling more protective of their youngest shift mate than ever. Roy made up rotating schedules as each man came in agreeing to come back and sit with John to get him through this. Roy wouldn't be leaving tonight and Joanne kissed him goodnight and brushed the long strands of hair off Johnny's forehead and kissed it gently too telling him to be good as she always did. She missed his usual reply of _no promises _and the look he always gave her that told her that he'd take care of her husband.

XXXX

Chris and Jen fought sleep for an hour before finally succumbing to the exhaustion from the days of searching and the news that their Uncle Johnny had been found but was injured. Joanne felt guilty for making a promise she didn't know if she could keep by telling them that they could see Johnny for a few minutes tomorrow. She just needed to be alone while she watched the late newscast from Kristy.

Settling on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea and a blanket, Joanne knew she'd sleep here tonight. Kristy's picture was shown on the screen while the anchorwoman from her station reported the basics before she announced that they would be going live in a few seconds.

"CKOL has breaking news that will relieve the worried citizens of L.A. this evening. Fireman Paramedic John Gage has been found and early reports indicate that he is suffering from a form of amnesia sustained while injured in the rescue of a woman and her infant daughter last Tuesday during the rockslides that all but changed the face of Oceanview Ridge. John Gage is currently in the ICU unit of Rampart General Hospital with other serious injuries and is listed in critical condition.

Shift mates Marco Lopez, Chet Kelly, Mike Stoker and Gage's Captain Hank Stanley are relieved and have been standing vigil by their fallen brother's side and say they'll continue their support through what will no doubt be a highly emotional recovery and legal battle.

Tomorrow we'll have exclusive interviews with two people who are being hailed as heroes for saving one of L.A.'s heroes, the people who opened their hearts and doors to a stranger. Andy and Nina Carter. Stay tuned to this channel as we report from the sources closest to this puzzling, yet as to be revealed heart-warming case.

I should end on the note that friends of John Gage and hospital security at Rampart General have asked that family only visitation is allowed at this time and Mr. Gage will not be taking interviews at this time."

Kristy rolled her eyes when the film stopped rolling. She had to say the last part because she was quite certain that KMPG would be quite happy to break in and interview an unconscious man and put words in his mouth. She was glad that Dr. Bracket had asked for and received enhanced security for the time being at Rampart.

XXXX

As predicted, it was less an hour when KMPG skidded on the coat tails of Kristy and CKOL. Rick, the same reporter from the station confrontation with KMPG's manager stood at the front gate of Andy and Nina's winery.

Joanne wanted to turn the station but was filled with morbid curiosity as to what the bloodhounds would say. Plus, she and the men would need to be armed with the whole horrible tactics of the opposition if they were to effectively squash rumors and right wrongs.

"Good evening L.A. KMPG has learned that the house behind me is where the fraudulent paramedic hid out after we broke the news of his underage qualification into the fire academy and subsequent paramedic program. We knocked on the door and though two people could clearly be seen inside, no one would answer the door. We'd like to remind the occupants of this house that KMPG will be glad to do an anonymous interview and will protect their confidentiality by blotting out faces in interviews. The public would be interested in knowing the reasons the occupants of this house felt obligated or intimidated to harbour a person who was, while hiding out here enjoying the hospitality, costing the taxpayers of L.A. and surrounding districts a small fortune in search and rescue costs.

Stay tuned over the next twenty-four hours as we will go live to Rampart General and will also speak to the District Attorney to find out what charges Mr. John Gage will be facing once he's released from Rampart General. This reporter will also do an enquiry as to the real condition of Mr. Gage. We have learned that Gage is a close and personal friend of the head of Emergency at Rampart and many staff members there would no doubt exaggerate his condition to prevent incarceration to prison while waiting for trial for fraud.

Until tomorrow, this is KMPG signing off."

The newscast ended and at midnight. The national anthem played with great irony. Joanne screamed into a pillow hoping her husband wasn't watching the news while sitting vigil at Johnny's bedside. The screen went to fuzz and white noise and Joanne said a prayer for Johnny.

XXXX

Far away in Montana friends from Johnny's past watched the news and were not fooled by KMPG. They knew the real John Gage. Yes, he may be young, but he was always an old soul and there were those on the reservation who wished they knew what was going on behind closed doors once John Gage's mother had passed away. But life on the reservation was hard and Johnny Gage had been a quiet boy. The few who knew the truth had been John's age with very little idea of how to help other than a few kinds words and a shared lunch at school when John would show up with nothing to eat.

Many of the old people found out that John finally inherited his parent's property after the death of his stepfather. Tribal elders had worked hard to secure the property from back taxes that John's stepfather neglected to pay. They had helped pay them from a fund set up in a settlement for land claims that wasn't nearly fair but had at least helped a few people. The elders knew that John would never come back to the reservation to live, too many bad memories but they also knew that he would sell the land for a fair price to someone who would preserve it as a farm that would help serve the community, and true to his nature, it was done. John had written a letter of thanks saying he would be using the money to purchase a small ranch of his own where he worked near L.A. and that he would endeavour to one day make it a place where perhaps children could come and learn how to ride horses and learn a little about the land.

People from Montana had lost touch with the runaway boy after his aunt had informed them that he was at least safe and making a life for himself. None of them had been in a position to do much for him before that but he'd been in their hearts.

A late night meeting of tribal elders regarding the latest news on John Gage prompted a letter writing campaign. Everyone knew that justice needed to be done and that though his intentions were good, still John had broken the law. They wanted him to stand tall throughout his trial but they did not want him to stand alone. He was a good boy, a good man.

XXXX

Morning brought no change in Gage's condition. Dr. Bracket entered the room to find Roy asleep in a chair beside his friend's bed, hands still clasped. Bracket set about taking Johnny's vitals while trying not to wake his exhausted partner. When he was finished charting he ordered a breakfast tray for Roy. The last thing he needed was another patient and the last thing Johnny needed was more guilt for thinking he caused it.

"Carol, start our boy here on some penicillin and fever reducer. I think swallowing all that muddy water's started an infection. He's at 101.4 right now."

Looking fondly down at his young patient Dr. Bracket warned him, "now don't you go getting any ideas of getting sicker young man."

"Sicker?" came the sleep confused voice of Roy.

"Mild fever, nothing to worry about yet," Brackett assured him.

Brackett's face became serious after a moment though. "We've scheduled an encephalograph for later on this afternoon and a cat scan. "Since no one's sure how long Gage wasn't breathing…"

Truth was, Roy had been so happy to find his partner he'd never really given thought to the fact that he hadn't been breathing when they'd finally pulled him from the water. Sudden memories of the blue-tinged lips plagued Roy.

"You mean he could be …"

"I won't say there isn't the possibility of brain damage, Roy, but when the head of neurology looked at the skull series and judging by his reflexes last night and pupil reaction there's a good chance Johnny will be just fine. You know we need to make sure."

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now? He's not under anaesthetic anymore and…"

"Given his injuries I wouldn't expect him to be awake today. It's normal for now, Roy. That's all I can tell you at this point. Now, eat that breakfast and let one of the other guys take over when they get here and go home for a bit. I'll call you if anything changes."

Roy was about to protest when Cap walked in looking haggard and worn out. They weren't due on shift until tomorrow but he worried about what would happen next.

Roy wasn't touching his food.

"Desoto, eat that breakfast or it'll be latrine duties for a month and I'll request Craig Brice as John's temporary replacement."

The word replacement fell like cement into Desoto's stomach. Even if Gage came out of this situation fit and ready to return to work, there was no guarantee L.A. County Fire Department would allow it.

Desoto made awkward conversation with his Captain as he forced himself to eat the rubbery eggs and spongy toast. He made a silent pact with himself right then and there, Gage would be coming back to work and in the meantime, he wasn't going to be eating hospital breakfasts. He knew that if he asked, the wives and mama Lopez and Chet's mom would take turns packaging up healthy, edible foods for John. They always had when he'd been injured in the past and Mama Lopez in particular always complained that he was too skinny and needed more food.

XXXX

Rampart security certainly earned their money in the two days that followed John's admittance to the ICU. They'd kicked out several midnight callers in the guise of long lost relatives and friends who turned out to be KMPG and other tabloid type reporters, they'd fielded calls as to the authenticity of the man's injuries and had even been offered bribes to take pictures of the injured young man on his sick bed.

"Can you believe those ghouls," fumed head of security Braydon Masters. That reporter Rick from KMPG offered me a free day of golf and dinner at the golf club if I'd let him in to get a picture of Johnny. John's a good guy. Remember the last earthquake when he and his partner were here dropping off and all hell broke loose? I broke my ankle when I was running with that little kid to get to a sheltered area in case we had a bad one. Well, Gage took her from me and saw to it that she was safe and even though I told him I could wait for treatment he took time to wrap it and gave me something for the pain until I could get help from a doctor and a cast. He kept a real calm head in all that. Can you believe he's ten years younger than me?

"I know," agreed another security officer. "My sister was in a car wreck and it was station fifty-one who responded. When they brought her in, Gage came to get me, knowing I was working. She was in bad shape and Bracket said if not for Desoto and Gage, she'd have died. I don't care if the guy's sixteen, twenty-one or twenty-five he's top notch and no one's getting to him on my watch. If my sister had died, it would have killed my mom. She has a bad heart."

XXXX

And somewhere in an unmarked room lay Johnny Gage, having no clue how much support was building for him from L.A. to Montana. It seemed KMPG was shooting itself in the foot even as they endeavoured to strip him to the bone.

XXXX

Roy took another look at the young man on the bed. The lips wrapped around the ventilator weren't blue anymore but the oxygen saturation levels in John's blood hadn't improved during the night much. Brackett knew it was both a blessing and a curse to for Roy to be able to read his friend's monitors.

"The critical eight hours of observation for secondary drowning are over and after listening to Johnny's lungs just now, I don't think the pulmonary oedema has increased either. He seems to be holding his own for now. His body's tired, he's fighting, Roy or else we would have lost him last night."

It was rare for Dr. Brackett to talk this way. His use of layman's terms and phrases meant for pure comfort were something he just didn't believe in unless absolutely warranted where professionals like Roy were concerned. He knew however that right now, after the adrenaline wore off from last night and the last four days he was simply talking to the friend of a very sick man, not a professional paramedic.

"I've got to go home for a little bit, Johnny. Time for a shower or else you're gonna wake up thinking I've put smelling salts under your nose." Roy smiled sadly down at his partner. "Cap's here though so be good or you'll end up taking Stoker's or my latrine duty … Yeah, you heard me right, Stoker with latrine duty. I'll tell you all about it when you wake up okay?"

With one last straightening of John's blankets Roy left heeding his captain's and Brackett's words. He wouldn't be any good to Johnny if he got sick himself.

XXXX

Roy crept into the house, smiling at the sight of Jenny putting her finger to her lips in the universal gesture of '_shhh' _and beckoning her daddy into the kitchen where she and Chris had successfully poured cereal into bowls and peeled oranges and poured glasses of milk. Joanne slept on the couch looking like she had gotten two hours tops of sleep. Roy agreed to be quiet and straightened the blanket over his wife's torso before rejoining his kids in the kitchen.

"Daddy, we got up early to go see Uncle Johnny. Mommy says Uncle Johnny isn't awake but we think he'll hear us. Once when you brought him here when he ate too much smoke he was sleeping and when he coughed we told him he'd be okay and he settled down again. Daddy smoke is yucky, why did he eat it?" Jenny leaned on her elbows with interest, not ready to take no as an answer to go see her favourite uncle.

"Well, honey, eating smoke is an expression," Roy began.

"Ohhh, like _elbow grease_ or _walking on eggshells_ like mommy says she has to do when you work a double shift?"

Roy choked on his milk at that one.

"She does, does she?" Well, he couldn't deny he could be a bear sometimes after a long shift with calls that don't allow for sleep. Roy cleared his throat. "Well, when we say someone ate smoke, what we mean is that they breathed too much in and it bothered their breathing, okay honey?"

Roy rose stiffly and washed the dishes while Chris and Jen went to get dressed. Joanne woke in the meantime and came into the kitchen at the smell of fresh coffee brewing.

"Good morning Mrs. Bear. Would you care for some eggs?" Roy was of course joking but he couldn't resist the riddles and persisted in them long enough for Joanne to find out her tattling had been found out.

Chris was the first finished changing and he joined his parents in the kitchen as Roy was telling Joanne that he'd been filled in on the malicious newscast from KMPG last night.

"Oh, Roy, they're going to eat Johnny alive when he wakes up."

"We won't let them, Jo."

"I know. Listen, do you think they'll let Chris and Jenny in to see Johnny for a few minutes? They've been searching for him and are every bit as worried about him as we are."

"Well, it's family only but under my discretion as next of kin I put Chris and Jen down as family too."

Roy knew he wouldn't sleep while Jo and the kids visited John so after a quick shower he drove them back to the hospital promising he'd nap in the afternoon.

XXXX

It was ten O'clock when the Desotos entered John's room. The ICU nurse had just taken his vitals and was pulling the sheet up over his torso. Roy wished they'd knocked as Jenny gasped upon seeing the purplish blue bruises that covered her uncle's chest. She drew her hand out of her mother's before Joanne could stop her and rushed to Johnny's side.

Cap excused himself to get a cup of coffee saying he'd be back soon.

Roy knelt down beside Jenny seeing John from her perspective. She was on her tiptoes taking in the ventilator, her eyes following each and every wire from her uncle to the machine's they were attached to. Her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears but she was silent.

Chris on the other hand looked like he was unsure of whether to even approach his uncle.

"It's okay, Chris you can go up and see him. Talk to him even. He might hear you. It'd be good for him."

"I don't know what to say," Chris admitted. With Uncle Johnny and Chris it was usually a football type tackle at the front door and then outside to play ball or barbecue hamburgers. His uncle looked like he was made of glass that would shatter at the slightest touch right now.

Chris rarely took anyone's hand anymore. He felt he was too old for that but when he reached out to Roy's hand, Roy took it and lead his son slowly to Johnny's bedside. A cold feeling swept through Roy. It didn't escape even the kids that this reunion felt somewhat like a funeral. It was scary.

Jenny pulled something brown and furry from her jacket pocket.

"Uncle Johnny, this is Teddy B. Good. I want you to have him here with you at the hospital. He's good at taking care of people in the hospital. He was there when I got my tonsils out, remember?" Jenny placed the bear on the table beside John's bed.

"I would have brought Barbie, Uncle Johnny but that's for our tea parties and daddy says you can't have tea right now, but as soon as you can, mommy and I are going to bake cupcakes for you."

Jenny fussed with Teddy B. Good's position and Chris fumbled with words for his uncle.

"I joined the track and field team like you suggested, Uncle Johnny. It's really fun. I'm not very fast yet but you said you'd run with me and give me some pointers. The big meets don't start 'til spring and I know you'll be fine by then. I can't wait to run with you."

Once he was talking, it was easier for Chris to keep going. Breaking the ice of a one sided conversation was hard for anybody.

Joanne kissed Johnny's forehead and leaned down to speak to him.

"Listen, little brother, you come back to us. Tea parties aren't the same without you."

Jenny knew more about John's condition than anyone thought. She once again entwined her small hand into Johnny's.

"You'll remember us when you wake up Uncle Johnny. That nice lady, Nina said you had am … amn, what is it called, Daddy?"

"Amnesia, honey." Roy looked wide-eyed at his wife. They'd decided earlier to cross that bridge when they came to it. There was just no telling if Johnny would wake as Nina described, fearful and disoriented as to the date. It was only now they all knew the full extent of the amnesia, the missing years, not knowing he was a fireman-paramedic and worst of all, not knowing his aunt was recently deceased.

"Miss Nina said you called Daddy's name once or twice while you were with her, that's good," Jenny praised the comatose man. "He's your best friend and your partner and sometimes he says you're a pain in the a--."

Joanne let out a laugh that was a half sob. Her daughter was nothing if not honest about her eavesdropping activities. "Jennifer Marie Desoto, finish that sentence and you allowance will be going to the naughty jar."

"Sorry mommy." Jenny turned to Gage, her face puckered up as if in thought. "Okay, he says you drive him crazy. But Uncle Johnny, he says that to Chris and I too so I think it means he loves you."

XXXX

Thoughts rose through the fog in Johnny's mind, voices penetrating the pain in his head. He held on to the pleasant sound that he'd heard so many times before but the words conflicted in the sweet voice confused him. _Pain in the a—um, butt? Drives him crazy?_

Gage felt the tiny warm hand in his. He knew he should know the voice and that didn't' help the frustration of not being able to pull himself up through the darkness to open his eyes or put a name to the voice. He wished the voice in the background wouldn't talk so quietly while he was screaming in his head for someone to tell him what was going on.

Someone was saying goodbye.

_Am I dying?_

They were leaving!

_No wait, tell me what's going on. Don't leave me._

All too soon, the voices were gone and somewhere in the background a constant beeping fought him for control. _What is it? An alarm clock. Did I oversleep? For what?_

Reality slammed into his muddled brain, he was drowning, someone was choking him.

_Oh God, please not again. Let me go. Pleasepleaseplease, nooo!_

He willed his arms to work. His eyes just wouldn't open as he reached for his neck and face.

Alarms wailed and he was held down.

_Let me go please! Oh God please, let me go, I'll leave. Please … please._


	7. Chapter 7

Roy couldn't help glancing back at John's ICU door. _He'll be fine with Cap_. He knew he had to get some sleep but though his body kept moving towards the elevators his mind was still in the room with his partner as he and his family reached the end of the hallway.

Chris had just pushed the elevator button as Brackett and a nurse ran into Johnny's room. Roy told Joanne to keep the kids in the lounge as he took off after them.

"He's fighting the vent!"

Cap and Roy stood on either side of Johnny holding his hands down as Brackett checked to make sure nothing had been pulled free.

Soft whimpers escaped Johnny's mouth around the ventilator. A tear slid down his face as his head tossed back and forth.

"Johnny? Listen to me. You need to calm down. You're on a ventilator but you're going to be okay. Just let it breath for you; don't fight it. You need it."

More tears flowed down John's face, which bunched into a contortion of pain as he continued to fight.

Breathy rasps that almost sounded like words forced from his stricken friend and Roy barely held back tears of his own seeing Johnny like this.

"John, this is Captain Stanley. You need to stop moving. I know it's hard but that's an order." Cap's tone just wasn't in it but John momentarily stilled.

Words from John's past warred with the horror of the present.

_"Stop it you little bastard! You got what was coming to you!"_ his stepfather growled at him from the grave.

"Johnny stop, please. Please Junior, you're hurting yourself."

_Junior?_

Something changed that minute. Johnny latched onto that one voice, that one word, and commanding blue eyes that he could only see with his mind's eye.

The frantic heart monitors slowed for a minute and every breath in the room was held. Cap and Roy kept their hands protectively over John's and Brackett stood ready with a syringe to plunge his young patient back into oblivion to save his life if necessary.

"Shhh, that's it, Junior." Roy was acutely aware of the struggle going on in his partner's mind.

Deep brown expressive eyes opened on a slit and blinked tiredly taking in all three faces above him before drifting shut.

"That's it, Junior, come back to us."

Try as he might, John couldn't open his eyes again. His stepfather wasn't here. Putting faces to the voices helped marginally but didn't explain who they were. Frustration burned within him as he tried to place these people in his life. He knew he should know them. His throat felt like he'd swallowed razor blades down into lungs made of shredded tissue paper. He started to fight the vent again. The chest tube jarred but stayed in place. Pain shot through his side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Gentle hands hovered at his shoulders without pressure. Warmth seeped into his body from them and he wanted to lean into them to hide for just a bit.

"Well, we have spontaneous respirations triggering the vent and that's a good thing but I'm afraid I'm going to have to sedate him. He needs the vent until his blood oxygen levels come up." Bracket pushed the medicine into the port of the IV in Gage's arms.

"Sleep now, Junior, you're not alone. Everything's going to be fine."

John's forehead smoothed out and the small gasps of pain and frustration were silenced. Desoto sat heavily into the chair beside his partner's bed. This was only the beginning, he thought sadly. John had no idea that his secret was out. In fact, there was the distinct possibility that once John woke; he still would be suffering from amnesia.

Roy couldn't stand the thought of leaving John now but though Cap's orders to Johnny had only worked momentarily, the order for Roy to go home and rest wasn't up for debate.

"Your family's waiting for you," Cap reminded him.

"Yeah … and a huge part of it is here."

"With me," reminded his captain and that had to be good enough for now.

"Thanks, Cap."

XXXX

John's cat scan and other tests over the next few days came out well considering what the young paramedic went through in not one but two near fatal accidents. Roy didn't even feel like joking about whether or not Gage used up one or two of his nine lives when Chet half-heartedly brought it up to lighten the mood.

John awoke at various points during the visits by his shift mates but if he recognized them or not they had no indication. He'd studied faces briefly as if trying to take it all in; to figure something out that none of them were privy to.

The ventilator extraction was purposely scheduled for Roy's visit since the paramedic was used to such procedures and would handle it better and be better at keeping Johnny calm during the relatively painful procedure.

Roy entered the room trying his best to belie his fear for his friend and the fact that watching something like this done to someone you love is far more difficult than watching it on someone else. Nerves rattled in Roy's stomach. Apart from some basic yes and no questions that John answered successfully, no one knew the extent of the amnesia still plaguing him. The questions had been purposely easy as more pressing ones had set off the alarms on the heart monitors as John tried to talk past the ventilator. Sadly watching John in a comatose state was going to prove much easier than trying to explain things in the state that they were in now.

"Okay, Johnny, I'm going to tilt you back just slightly. As I remove the tube, I want you to cough as hard as you can. I know it will hurt but it will help with the extraction and will make it go quicker. Once the tube is out I'm going to raise the bed a little and I want you try to take controlled breaths, small at first and then gradually deeper. Ready?"

The last time Gage was weaned from a ventilator he'd sought support from Roy by looking him right in the face. Now brown eyes stared fearfully up into blue ones and quickly looked down, closed to the world as if he had to do this all on his own.

Roy reached down and cupped the young man's chin. "Junior, look at me. Do what I do, okay? I'm gonna be right here. I'm gonna help you. It'll be okay."

Johnny nodded, his eyes tired but somehow wide and fearful at the same time. He winced when the tape holding the mouthpiece was pulled off . The area under the tape was a bit red with pulled skin. Roy felt John's entire body tense as if he wanted to pull away and be anywhere but here and he let him squeeze his hands as hard as he could.

Tears slipped from Gage's eyes and Roy's heart wanted to break. It was so easy to see that John was only twenty-one years old right now when he'd lost his mature façade as surely as Peter Pan had lost his shadow. John arched up onto his heels, his back bowed painfully impeding the extraction.

"Relax your body, lie flat," Roy said calmly.

A brief, fearful look of defiance was replaced with resignation as John's body fell back into place.

Weak, hoarse coughing was all Johnny could manage as the tube snaked its way up his throat scraping like sandpaper. As soon as it came free Dr. Brackett got out of the way and let Roy take over. Roy's knee was on the bed as Brackett raised the head of the bed. His body loomed over Johnny forcing him to focus.

Roy blew out a few fake coughs, encouraging Gage to mimic him. Slowly, panting, Gage followed what Roy did. His eyes were bloodshot as he tried to breathe. Pain shot through his collarbones and a sob tore his throat to shreds as he fought for control. Dry heaves from the tube touching his gag reflex felt like they were going to pull his very soul from his body as Roy rubbed small circles on his back, leaning over him so he had something to hide behind.

Roy leaned back when the gagging stopped locking eyes on his friend. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then the frames were new but the panes were ancient and worn.

Kelly Brackett took vitals and Gage tried to watch which distracted him from concentrating on getting his breathing under control. Roy gently took his chin back, fitting an oxygen mask over his face. He purposely stood in front of the machines, not wanting him to see the dropping oxygen saturation levels in case on this level of consciousness he understood what they meant.

Kell's frown lessened as slowly, the levels started to come back up. Roy had one hand on John's chin the other resting feather light on his chest.

"That's it, follow me. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

John's pulse rate dropped from its racing rate, as did his skyrocketing blood pressure.

The time between John's blinks grew longer with each passing minute as he was closely monitored, the nurse standing in the background waiting to assist putting the vent back if necessary. His mouth opened a few times as if he wanted to say something but he swallowed in clear agony before his eyes closed and didn't reopen.

Roy stayed perched over his friend for a few more minutes before letting Johnny's chin droop in what Brackett assured him was just sleep. His other hand remained on his chest, needing to feel the evidence of life for himself. He stayed like that for five minutes before he suddenly ran out the door, past his wife in the ICU waiting room and to the men's room.

Roy splashed some cold water on his face before allowing himself to slide down the opposite wall, head in his hands. He fought the bile that threatened to rise into his mouth. Who knew hope hurt this much? Because somewhere hidden within those brown eyes was trust and maybe just a little bit of recognition.

XXXX

Roy took his vacation early. He couldn't stand the throngs of reporters that were camped out across the street from Station fifty-one clambering for more information on John Gage. More often than not he found himself doing security detail at Rampart as reporters grew bolder in their attempts to get pictures or try to speak with John. It wasn't lax security that was letting these people slip past, it was the cunning ways in which it was attempted. With a hospital as big as Rampart, huge numbers of people came and went frequently and it was easy to pose as a supplier, a candy striper or maintenance worker.

Roy didn't know why these hounds didn't just fabricate stories for their use and make up interviews; lord knew they'd lied about most everything else. Through it all, Kristy tried valiantly to save John Gage's reputation. She even flew out to Montana where John's life began and talked to the tribal elders and some former neighbours and schoolmates. No one had anything but good to say about John and Kristy interviewed them standing outside Johnny's old school. Another score for the good side was that Kristy was able to get some archives of John's early school records which showed exemplary grades and impressive track and field standings but troubling attendance for various ailments and injuries.

Kristy called Joanne in the evening and was relieved to find out John was off the ventilator but she had some troubling news to share.

"Jo, you're going to have to ready Roy for some of the hard stuff coming out. It seems KMPG got here first and interviewed some people and have put a spin on some of it that isn't very flattering. I need to go live first with the fair side."

"I'll make sure Roy watches the broadcast at home and not at the hospital, and Kristy, thanks … for everything."

"Sure thing. I'll call you when I land."

Kristy broadcast her interviews of people who were ancient who must have been old when Johnny was a kid; people he shovelled snow for and carried groceries for. She interviewed a poor farmer who testified that John had done his best to help patch up animals that had been injured since veterinary care was very expensive and ill afforded at the time. And finally, she held up a copy of the Montana and California school records that showed John Gage graduating with honors one year early through correspondence at a state recognized program. She hoped that would at least put to rest the public concern about his qualifications to join the academy in the first place and would take some of the heat off of headquarters.

KMPG, finding no dirt, just sad speculation at the reservation, instead turned to insulting the reservation in general, poking around and pointing out faults and indicating that perhaps the fire department should be more selective. Tribal elders discouraged retaliation and the reporters were asked to leave with the well wish that they gain wisdom and replace spitefulness with acceptance and peace, which at least one elder smiled at, knowing how it ticked Rick the reporter off. Fight fire with brimstone, the satisfied man thought though it pained him to know that for some, wisdom would never come.

Kristy accepted a dream catcher for Johnny from the elders. She wished she could have stayed for a little while longer. This was a place of deep, rich culture and she wanted to learn of the pains and the triumphs and gain permission to bring their story out their way. But for now all she could do was try to be the best King's horseman and put Humpty Johnny's life back together again.

On her way to the airport her driver stopped at the house on a fair sized chunk of land with a new 'sold' sign on the front lawn; Johnny's childhood home. The layers of paint were chipped to show pieces of the past as they had peeled away with Johnny's hopes and dreams. It was easy to tell that the house had once stood proud and tall but suffered neglect and withered but was not beyond repair. She just hoped the same was true for the boy she considered a friend.

Taking a few snapshots, she got back in the car and headed for the airport.

XXXX

John woke feeling something awkward beneath his hand. The steady beeping that had been ever-present was still there, though quieter, more background noise letting him know he was still alive if he ever doubted it.

Looking down he found his hand resting on someone's shoulder. The figure was sleeping. This was good. It gave him time to figure out what he was supposed to do; who this person was.

The sandy hair was familiar but Gage couldn't place it. Feeling panicky that the person might wake up, John feigned sleep but his burning throat made it impossible to keep up and soon he was fidgeting in pain. The person stirred and sat up.

Gage snapped his eyes shut but not before Roy saw the expressive brown orbs.

"Johnny?" he asked, trying to control desperation in his voice.

Gage heard the tone and something deep inside made him respond, forced him to open his eyes. There they were again. He should know that face. That face was important. He remembered screaming a name that went with that face in his mind when he was hurt and someone asking if that was his father. That unbidden thought made Gage study the face a little closer. No, it wasn't his stepfather. His stepfather was dead.

_He's dead? Yes, he's dead. And Aunt Rose … Oh God!_ He tried to speak but couldn't

The monitors picked up but Roy held up his hand to the nurse who had sped into the room, keeping an eye that they didn't reach danger level as Gage tried to figure things out. Rapid eye movement under squinted eyelids showed the fast forward button in Gage's mind had been pushed. Roy gently unwound his partner's hand from the twisted bed sheet where he held on for dear life as if he'd fall off the edge of his flat world.

"John it's okay. I'm here. It's Roy. It's okay if you don't know me right now, but you will. You will."

Roy followed the hospital psychiatrist's advice about feeding small bits of information to John at a time only complimenting what he remembered himself.

Eyes opened in a 'pinch me' sort of way as if John couldn't believe he was really there.

"R … Roy?" John whispered and Roy thought there was never a more welcome sound other than the first cries of his children when they were born.

"Yeah, Junior, it's me. You're okay. You're gonna be fine. You're safe."

Roy couldn't help the tears that fell freely off the end of his nose. John reached up out of nothing more than instinct at this moment and brushed one off as if he wanted to put it under a microscope and analyse it.

"Hu … hurts … Roy." Gage's tattered hands came up to touch his throat. Pupils that were still overly large searched Roy's face.

Roy reluctantly pressed the call button wanting to keep Gage all to himself for another minute and the nurse summoned Dr. Early who was on call. Ice chips were ordered and John looked in bliss as Roy spooned one at a time to him. The cool melted ice helped put the fire in his throat out as Dr. Early checked the monitors and pupil reaction and generally poked and prodded.

"John, I want you to follow the penlight with your eyes keeping your head still, understand?"

Gage nodded tiredly, having a feeling he'd done this dozens of times before in another life.

"Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Th … three." Gage studied the face of the grey haired, kind looking doctor.

_Early … He's Dr. Early. I know him._

"Good!" Dr. Early kept his voice light and quiet but the enthusiasm trickled through.

"How long's he been awake, Roy?"

_Roy! Desoto, Roy Desoto_! But something was missing. Gage studied the face with the kind blue eyes and the sandy hair and followed it down to the grey sweater. No, that was wrong. It was frustrating, these fragmented memories like trying to process thoughts through a cheese grater. The pieces went in whole but came out small and detached.

These men weren't here to hurt him. He knew that. His mouth opened automatically for the spoons of ice chips as he watched them talk. Dr. Early put a hand on Roy's shoulder though Gage had watched Roy wipe off any evidence of tears before he arrived.

Gage shivered as his bandages were gently removed from the stitches on his upper torso and his head from where the rocks had fallen on him. His entire body jumped when someone walked into the room suddenly. It had been hard enough lying there with his torso exposed with just two people in the room. His legs shot up as he grabbed the sheet that had been folded back to his waist and he cradled himself into a foetal position even though it chorused through his body in strings of agony.

Captain Stanley paused in shock and dismay to have caused his young paramedic any more pain. Seeing the immediate damage was done, Roy took charge of the situation and the usual calm Dr. Early was glad of it. Roy could never have predicted this, but something about the diary John had written spoke of things in his past.

Cap turned to leave, reopening the door as quietly as he could but the quiet soothing voice of Roy Desoto stopped him though his instincts told him otherwise. No one knew Johnny like Roy so he forced himself to listen and planted his feet firmly where they were but came no closer.

Roy lowered the bedrail and grasped Johnny's hands lightly but firmly. He put his head on the pillow facing John keeping his feet still planted on the floor which was awkward and hard on his back but he knew what he was doing, or at least he hoped he did.

Using the nickname that seemed to get the most trusted response, Roy began to soothe the frightened man.

"Junior. Look at me. You have to lie flat okay? I'm going to cover you back up and I'll help you straighten out. Let me do all the work okay?"

Gage's face was a mask of pain and Dr. Early readied a dose of morphine but held off.

Slowly, John let Roy work his legs back down straight and let him help him turn back over onto his back from his side. His arms remained crossed over his chest like a mummy. It would do. For now. He had to let him have some feeling of control.

"Junior, this man is Hank Stanley. He's okay. He won't hurt you. He's a friend." Roy shot an apologetic look to his captain.

Stanley stepped forward slightly and it was clear by the lack of fear on John's face now that it was the suddenness of the intrusion rather than whom the person was who had stepped in at moment of total dependence. Cap had obviously come straight from work. He wore his uniform and a slight hint of smoke hung around him.

Roy saw John sniff the air and take in the face first before he became fixated on the uniform shirt and in particular the patches on either bicep. The injured man's eyes followed from the blue shirt to the emblems to Roy's face and grey sweater several times before he shut his eyes, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

Cap timidly came closer and wondered if this was how a boot felt the first time they met their captain. Being scrutinized so heavily was unnerving and if he scared his paramedic again he would want to bolt from the room and never come back.

John studied Cap's face and Roy noticed that if it were possible, as dumb as it sounded, John seemed to lie straighter as recognition not so much for the man as the position seemed to come to him.

_Cap _… Somewhere in the confused jumble of wires making up John's fried brain at the moment the word Twit came to mind.

"N … Not a tw …twit. R … r-right Roy?"

Roy felt his knees give as he sat down on John's bed and Cap raked his hand over his face as Dr. Early sighed in guarded relief.

"No, Johnny, you're not a twit," Roy told him, tears threatening to fall again.

"Kay." And with that, John fell asleep.

"Twit," Captain Stanley said affectionately patting Johnny on the shoulder and raising his hand to his own face claiming he had something in his eye.

Dr. Early removed John's stitches while he was asleep and for this Roy was glad. They also took this time to change John's gown and sheets knowing it would be easier on him while he was out. For now, they would take what they could get and heal their friend one piece at a time.

XXXX

The many worlds of John Gage collided when Nina and Andy came to visit. Embarrassment flushed John's cheeks as he recalled telling them that his name was Chet Stoker. John was still shielded from the world in that he knew nothing about everyone knowing his secrets. For now they all embraced the simplicity of John getting some of his memories back and reconciling his past with his present and the hell bridge in between.

"I'm a fireman-paramedic," he proudly told Nina and Andy. Then he slipped back into stuttering. "I … I, I'm s-sorry for lying to you. I didn't know. I thought … I thought … It really was …wasn't a lie, it-it was j-just…"

"It's okay, Johnny." Andy spoke first.

John looked to Roy for confirmation and Roy just nodded to him from across the room. Johnny had asked Roy to stay when he saw people for the first time. The Neurologist had told him that he would have more trouble recognizing some people than others and some memories would be more elusive than others. The concussion, injuries and near drowning all conspired to muddy things that John knew he should remember.

"Th-th-th the little girl?"

"Chloe? She's fine, Johnny. You saved her life. Brett's fine too and he's going to come see you soon.

Nina stepped up closer to John's bed, taking her cue from Roy that John seemed comfortable.

"I'm so glad you're beginning to mend. When I found you I was so worried." Consideration of his feelings still felt foreign to John despite the fact that Roy had filled him in on all of shift mates and their concern for him and the massive search for him. He'd of course left out the bad aspects to the whole thing.

John remembered cowering on the floor of the clinic, remembered being shirtless in front of Nina, how she'd looked at his back and saw his past.

"I wish I knew who you were that day, John, so I could have returned you to where you belonged, but believe me when I tell you that the boy I met on the road that day was brave, intelligent and kind." Seeing John tense at the word boy, Nina amended her words. "You're a good man, John, then and now." She hoped she'd smoothed over her slip up. They'd agreed that no one would tell John they knew his true age yet. For now, he needed to get to know himself as much as anyone else did.

John didn't know what to say to that so he just nodded and mumbled stuttered thanks and changed the subject.

"How, how's George doing?"

"He's fine," Nina smiled, grateful for the change of subject. "He's got a steady girlfriend now in Lucy even though it was a long distance relationship up until now."

"Ohhh maaaan," John moaned and Roy couldn't help but suppress a grin. That was vintage John Gage. "I wr … wrecked his sweater. Roy? C-can you go to the bank for me and wire money to George for a new sweater?"

"Sure thing, partner," Roy agreed but his heart fell into his shoes. While Johnny was comatose, he was suspended without pay from the L.A. County fire department. His un-cashed windfall from the sale of his parent's home sat in a drawer in his empty apartment and instead of the ranch he'd dreamed of, Johnny would have to be told very soon that he was going to need that money for a defence attorney which would be very expensive and would be eaten through in no time. Roy would send money to George himself without telling his partner.

The only bright side in the whole saga so far was that the D.A. decided not to ask for a jail sentence for fraud. The worst that would happen to John Gage was that he would be fired from the fire department and paramedic program. So, no, there would be no bars but the ones John would surely build around himself if he was fired. The only reason John didn't know about any of this was that so far, Brackett's word was law and his patient wasn't ready for questioning or visitors other than family.

It couldn't last.

XXXX

The A shift finally had a day off. They gathered together in the waiting room of the ICU waiting to go in. Gage had slept for four hours since Nina and Andy left and Roy had asked Johns' friends to come in uniform, as it seemed to help with recognition. It hurt so much to know that John identified so much of his life as his work. He guessed that's where the term life's work came from.

Marco, Chet and Stoker stepped into the room and stood stock still as if for roll call and damned if Johnny didn't laugh out loud, scaring his friends for his sanity.

"I had a dream, you were in it, and you and you," Gage laughed hoarsely pointing at each in turn seeing the fear drop from the three men's faces.

"I see you retained your warped personality, Dorothy," Chet sneered as best he could though misty tears at the Wizard of Oz reference.

Gage laughed for the first time and it was like music to everyone. He sipped water that Roy handed him. The chuckle had hurt but it was worth it.

Cap came in with a tray of coffee and a picture was completed in Gage's mind like a jigsaw puzzle, one of those really hard ones with a million pieces. He was quiet for a long minute while the coffee was passed around, complaining just so Roy wouldn't worry that he wanted some too.

"Sorry, Johnny, no can do. You're getting the good stuff in that IV of yours until tomorrow."

"Morphine and caffeine don't mix," Chet taunted, blowing on his coffee deliberately so the smell would permeate the air further.

"Yeah, well, caffeine tastes better," John grumbled.

_Ahhh, the Phantom and the Pigeon together again, Chet sighed happily._

XXXX

Sunlight streamed into the windows flitting over Gage's sleeping face waking him. He made the mistake of stretching, pulling on his bruised pelvis and torso. The sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth woke the ever-present sentry at his bedside.

"You're gonna turn into a … a pr- pretzel if you stay in that chair much longer."

"I'm fine, Roy said stretching to the pop of vertebrae in his back and neck. He got up and began fussing over his young partner.

Dr. Brackett came in as if he had radar at that moment. The doc made sure Gage was aware of what was happening before he turned down the sheets and pushed aside the gown to check the bruising and chest tube.

Gage cringed under the examinations keeping his head turned away, jaw muscles jumping in cheeks that had started to jut out a little more than usual lately. Watching this every time Gage needed to be checked on made Roy want to resurrect Gage's stepfather and kill him all over again.

The scars where the stitches had been removed the day before were pinking up and the bruises were blossoming from blue-black to yellowy-green. Kel and Roy helped John turn to his side so Kel could check his back and this was always the most sensitive part of the exam. Roy always tried to make small talk as Kel probed around the bruises and checked John's breathing placing a stethoscope on his back. John knew that he was going to have to explain those scars for sure now. It wasn't like Roy hadn't seen them in the past, hell even Chet had seen them over the years but even the Phantom knew not to go there.

As Brackett and Roy were helping John to turn back onto his back, his hip flared with intense pain as a Charlie horse took hold. Humiliation flooded John's entire being when Roy massaged the pain out. John bit a part of the sheet until the pain passed, tears streaming from his eyes. Was this ever going to get easier?

When John's body stopped writhing in agony the two men quickly followed the routine that had been established. The less new things for Johnny right now the better. His gown was changed; fresh sheets were placed on the bed. As usual, Johnny cocooned himself up to his chin under the sheet.

"I have some good news for you, Johnny. Tomorrow morning if all goes well, we can take out that chest tube."

Johnny waited for better news that usually followed such a statement. Chet had already let out of the bag that he'd be taken off the morphine tomorrow, which was good because Johnny hated the extra fog it caused his already confused brain. The ventilator had already been removed, so why was no one announcing that he was ready for a step down unit? And the kick to it all, John wasn't even so much worried for himself. He knew that usually Roy stopped being such a mother hen when he was downgraded from critical to stable and went home to his family. Roy looked tired and John was getting worried and knew that Chris and Jen would be missing their dad and Joanne her husband. His honey do list was probably a mile long by now and John knew it'd be awhile before he could come over and help again.

Dr. Brackett patted John on the shoulder wishing he didn't have to cause the young man so much misplaced shame and went to the door.

"Uh, Doc? When … when ar-are you gonna let me get out of the I-ICU? I … I'm getting better, right?"

"Of course you are John, but let's not push things. You were in two accidents in one week. You're still suffering from post concussion syndrome and you haven't recovered all of your memories yet. Give it just a little more time okay, pal?"

XXXX

Mike Stoker came in to stay with John that night. Roy was ordered home and Johnny was glad. Roy had run himself ragged.

Stoker beamed with a bit of good news for Johnny. I made some chicken and vegetable soup today and Dr. Brackett said if you felt up to it you could have some."

One thing Johnny did remember was how great Mike's cooking was. He knew he wouldn't be up to spaghetti, the dish for which Stoker was famous but even through the paper bag and container that it was carried in, John could smell the soup.

John lacked the co ordination to use a spoon and Stoker knew that John wouldn't take kindly to being spoon fed if he could help it at all so he'd packed a light mug and poured the soup into it. Gage put up with a little help in holding the cup. It was after all Mike's soup and well, no one turned down Mike's soup.

Mike was the quiet one of fifty-one's A shift and Gage was grateful for that as he savored the soup. It was comfortable. Mike didn't poke fun like Chet did, but Gage had to admit, the phantom had been on his best behaviour since he'd taken ill.

Mike was clearly pleased when Johnny finished the whole cup of soup but had the sense not to say anything. He was the perfect second in command and Engineer, thoughtful and happy to be quiet until needed then stepped up to bat like a pro.

Stoker rummaged through his large duffel bag and brought out a giant book.

"This usually sits on my coffee table at home but I thought you might like to see it.

Mike opened the book to huge, glossy pages of pictures of mountain ranges in the wild and artsy photos of the Hollywood sign and fields of wild flowers and tall grasses. Gage was at a loss for words at the kindness. He could almost smell the nature over the antiseptic smell of the hospital. He had a sudden memory of swearing off camping when he'd been stuck on that ledge but seeing this book made him realize that one day, he'd go back to the things he loved. If they ever let him out of the ICU that is, he thought bitterly.

Gage stayed with the book until nearly the last page when Mike noticed his head drooping with what he hoped was contentment at his first food in days and a full stomach.

Dr. Early stopped in during the night as Stoker sat vigil reading from a novel he'd brought and munching on a granola bar.

Gage stirred so Early waited for him to wake naturally before checking his pupils and wounds.

Dr. Early gently tugged on the sheet to lower it but Gage held on to it for dear life. John did not want Mike to see the scars on his back.

"It's okay, Johnny, I'm just going to check your collarbones tonight, okay?"

"O--- kay."

Early hid his concern as even this small indignity made the young man flinch. Early was glad he'd insisted on checking the brace as a small fastening was making an angry groove in the paramedics shoulder and with a small adjustment that was corrected and the redness lessened immediately. John pulled the sheet back up as soon as his gown was draped back over his upper torso.

"Mike tells me you ate some soup. How's it sitting? Any nausea?"

"N-no," Johnny replied.

"That's a really good sign," Early smiled. "Maybe tomorrow you can have some toast and poached eggs."

"Lucky me," Gage said, trying not to sound ungrateful but he knew the routine, soft foods until things were settled. Still, this news should have been further proof that Gage was ready for the step down unit. He was sleepy so he let it go. Tomorrow would tell its tales when and if they really removed the chest tubes or not.

Gage closed his eyes but he was cold. He shivered slightly but didn't want to disturb Mike or use the call button.

Before he fell to sleep he felt a warming sensation and a gentle weight fell across his body enveloping him in comfort. He looked up through slitted eyes.

"You looked a little cold," Mike told him as he fussed tucking in the blankets around the slim body. A small plush bear fell from the bed. John's cheeks flushed pink. He'd been squeezing the bear through bouts of pain. It was soft and didn't hurt his hands.

Mike didn't say a word. He gently tucked the bear under the blanket with Johnny. Even Chet wouldn't say a word at this point about the bear when Gage's face showed fear of merciless teasing.

"Th-thanks," Gage murmured asleep almost instantly.

Mike was happy to have captured even a little bit of the trust that Johnny seemed to have lost in everything as he looked down at his friend. He swallowed hard. Gage was only twenty-one years old! How many times had he watched as the child the same age as his own brother carried people from burning buildings, rappelled down cliffs to save trapped motorists, saved drunks and criminals even without hesitation? And all this before his twenty first birthday.

At these musings, Mike realized that Johnny had in essence missed a milestone birthday. Sure, he'd mentioned that he'd gone camping and had what he liked to call a 'Johnny weekend' away but a twenty first birthday was a big deal and Mike decided that when his friend was all better he was going to celebrate a proper twenty first even if it was a few months late.

Hushed voices made Stoker look up from his book. If the nurse behind the glass booth that monitored the ICU was any indication she hadn't heard it because she never looked up from her masses of paper work.

Mike opened the door a crack wondering what the deal was with that much noise outside the ICU in the middle of the night. He saw not one but three men swabbing the floor half heartedly with mops as they made their way down the hall snooping into each room. Mike stayed quiet for a moment, pondering whether it could be a stupid hospital policy for them to check the trash bins in each room or something before he complained.

One of the men took what looked like a photo from where Mike stood and looked up studying Stoker's face. Mike heard his own name uttered as the men rushed the room pushing him back inside. A bright flash momentarily blinded Mike as he tripped over the chair he'd occupied. Spots danced before his eyes as the nurse yelled at the commotion and stepped from her booth.

"You can't be here. This is a restricted room."

Flashbulbs went off in her eyes as well as the men pushed her aside. As soon as Mike could see and had regained his balance he swung his fist out connecting with the guy who had been looking at the photo, which had clearly been taken of the guys as they exited the engine from across the street of the station. The man went down with a loud _oomph!_

A foot snaked around Stoker's right foot and another on the opposite side of his knee and he was swept to the ground taking the second guy he'd been wrestling with him. Stoker rolled to his back and quickly regained his footing preparing to finish the man off when the beside table struck his back sending him sprawling just as the other two men got to their feet.

Mike's head struck the railing of the bed as he collapsed to the floor. He got back up seeing stars now and spun to the right side of the bed and the man who had attacked him with the table using an upper cut to his abdomen, heartened when the man cried out and fell. Another flashbulb went off in Mike's face as the two goons got to their feet.

"Did you get it?" one of them grunted.

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

The nurse had called security and was now whipping the blankets off of John Gage's body and her hands flew to his side to hold the now gaping wound where the chest tube had been pulled out when the men had leaned on him to line up their shot of the paramedic.

Mike blinked at the very much awake paramedic and stumbled out into the hallway to get some help. Just as he was about to yell out, the three men were marched back onto the ward by six very large, very ticked off security guards and two Dobermans who looked hungry. There was no time for Mike to gloat over the bite marks all three of the men sported.

Call Dr. Early and some more nurses. Gage is … I couldn't stop 'em." Mike panted before rushing as fast as his spinning head would allow back into the room.

"What can I do?" Mike asked frantically.

"Put your hands here and apply pressure," the nurse ordered, replacing his hands for her own which she sprung into motion getting vitals and readjusting the drip on the IV lines, one of which had been pulled out and was bleeding profusely.

"Damn it, I don't know if we lost the canula!" she shouted frantically tying a tourniquet on Gage's upper arm.

With flashbulbs still obscuring his vision, Mike searched the floor for the missing IV parts. With a sigh of relief he let the nurse know that he spotted it on the floor between his feet. She quickly untied the tourniquet as Dr. Early rushed into the room.

Dr. Early tried to talk to Gage but was busy saving his life first so while Stoker stood there with his friend's blood and skin squeezed between his hands he tried to talk to him.

"Johnny, it's gonna be okay. I know none of this is okay. It's so screwed up I don't even know where to begin but I promise you, no one will ever touch you again." Mike couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes as his hands were gently pried from his friend's side. All he could do was stand there and stare at the blood that stained his hands and ran in small, weird patterns into his fingerprints.

Johnny cried out loudly in pain as the area where the tube had been was probed.

A sedative was ordered and as it was given, all Gage could say was "Why? Wh … why?" before his eyes slid closed.

It was a rare mercy that the chest tube didn't have to be put back in but the assault and improper way it had been tugged out by the thugs made it harder to stitch and would make the scars from it that much more pronounced and painful to recover from.

Dr. Early wanted a sterile room to stitch the hole from the chest tube and to properly examine Johnny so he ordered an OR set up.

No one noticed Mike stumble from the room as orderlies arrived to take the unconscious Gage to surgery.

XXXX

The phone rang in the Desoto household. It was four a.m. Fear gripped Roy and Joanne. Joanne had gotten calls like this in the middle of the night, always praying it wasn't someone telling her that her husband had been injured or worse. Was it wrong to be thankful that her husband was beside her so tonight, it had to be someone else? No, it was human.

Roy got to the phone first.

"Hello?" _please don't be bad news, please don't be bad news._

At first Roy was getting angry, as ragged breathing was all he could hear on the other end of the line.

"Roy? It's me, Mike. Oh, God, Roy, something's happened to Johnny. I couldn't stop it … I tried, I really did but there were three and I thought …"

Roy was alarmed and puzzled at the same time. If something had happened to Johnny how could Mike have stopped it so why was he apologizing? Then the paramedic instinct took over.

"Mike, I'm on my way. Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other end and then 'Your call has now exceeded the three minute time limit, please insert another dime to continue your call or disconnect."

"Mike? Mike!"

"Mike was on a pay phone. But there's a phone right in Johnny's room for outgoing calls… Jo, I have to go, please call the front desk emergency department and ask them to check on Stoker and Johnny. Mike didn't say what happened.

Used to being awakened and having to be ready to go at a moment's notice came in handy and in seconds, Roy had keys in hand and was running to the driveway. He ignored the speed limit and sped off toward Rampart.

Roy pulled up to the tow-away zone, not caring if he got a ticket or towed. He noticed the squat, short miserable female manager of KMPG sitting in a brown Chevy studying the nearest exit like a hawk. He made note of it, anger rising in his chest but he had no time to confront her. He had to check on his friends first.

Sirens screamed to a halt behind him and Vince Howard and his partner rushed to the elevators as Roy followed them with a very bad feeling. The doors dinged open and a usually quiet ICU was thrown into chaos as men argued with each other over whose fault something was.

Roy slipped past the commotion with a backwards glance finding the sheets dishevelled and covered in blood where his partner should be sleeping. Mike's book and duffel were strewn about the room and another small patch of blood dotted down the bedrail and onto the floor.

A very shaky nurse told Roy that his partner had been taken up to OR. Swallowing back fear and frustration and knowing he couldn't get into the OR, Roy asked what happened to Stoker. The nurse's eyes grew wide with dismay.

"Oh, I should have remembered," she cried. "The young man who was sitting with Mr. Gage was injured trying to defend him and myself from the three men who burst in here to get a picture of Mr. Gage."

The poor nurse followed on Roy's heels as he Roy followed the trail of small dots of blood down the hall, out of the ward, up two flights of stairs to the payphones in the maternity ward. There sat Mike, head in his hands, phone still dangling and buzzing around his ears.

"Mike? Stoker?" Roy knelt down and drew Mike's hands away from his wound. There was a nasty knot on his forehead that was bleeding pretty badly but wouldn't account for all the blood down Mike's front and on his shoes.

"They got to him, Roy, there was nothing I could do. I didn't know they were … I just thought they were noisy. They hurt him, Roy, they hurt him real bad."

Roy choked back his fear, using it to help the friend he could help while praying that the doctors were helping his other friend in the OR.

The nurse returned with a wheelchair which she looked like she could use herself but she pressed on stoically. Desoto took Stoker under the armpits and helped him up into it, tucking his feet onto the rests and heading for the E.R.


	8. Chapter 8

Dixie was on nights and her hands shook in anger as she recounted how she watched the reporters in their bogus cleaning staff uniforms make their way to the elevators without even a second thought. There was plenty of blame to go around and no shortage of people willing to take it.

Roy rushed down the corridor with Mike in the wheelchair.

"Let's get him into exam two," Dixie said, trying to be professional again.

She began to take Mike's vitals, glad to have something to do. Mike Morton came in and in his usual no nonsense way began to examine Stoker. The young doctor blew out a sigh of relief he would have denied at finding that all of the blood on Stoker wasn't his own.

Mike looked at the name on his new patient's chart.

"Stoker, right? Listen, you're wiggling around just like your shift mate Gage does when he's here. Settle down so I can have a look at you."

Mike looked past Dr. Morton to Roy.

"I tried to protect him, Roy, you gotta believe me."

Roy put his hand on Stoker's chest.

"I believe you, Mike. There were three guys. You did what you could. You're the only reason they got caught."

Dixie could tell Morton too was frustrated as he used a little more strength than strictly necessary to rip open gauze packets and freezing for stitches but he was gentle in his ministrations when it came to examining fifty-one's engineer.

"Desoto's right, Stoker. It's not your fault this happened and you need to lie still so we can stop this bleeding."

Mike settled somewhat but the heel of his bare foot tapped impatiently on the thin mattress on the examining table as Dixie cleaned some of John's blood from his torso.

Mike followed Morton's fingers as they were waved in front of his face and he blinked when the penlight was flashed in his eyes. He answered all of Morton's neuro check questions but was still deemed to have a slight concussion. It took ten stitches to close the wound in his forehead.

Mike didn't seem to feel the stitches. Since his shirt was ruined with his and John's blood anyway, Dixie cut it away to avoid slipping the bloody mess over his head. A warm soapy cloth eased over his chest and he took his first full breath since everything happened.

"Dix, I think we'll keep Stoker here overnight for observation. Can you page an orderly and get him a room."

"Sure," Dixie replied.

"I'd rather not be admitted," Mike said. "Look, Roy said he's staying for the rest of the night anyway and if I just rest here with him he can keep an eye on me … right Roy?"

Mike looked so hopeful that Roy agreed just like he'd done with his own partner times out of count.

"Gage has been a bad influence on you guys," Mike said in a friendly enough sort of way. "Okay, but Roy you know what to watch for and you're to bring him back to the E.R. if anything comes up. Stoker, I'm off shift at nine in the morning, I want to see you before you go."

"You got it. And thanks, Doc," Mike said shaking Morton's hand and turning to Roy expectantly. "Let's go see how Gage is doing."

XXXX

A nurse was pulled from a quiet ward to replace John's ICU nurse temporarily for Dixie to take her for coffee and a quiet moment and to get cleaned up. By the time Roy and Stoker made it back to Gage's room, it looked as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Fresh sheets had been prepared, the floor gleamed and a fresh gown stood ready for Johnny.

Stoker wobbled on his feet a bit as they made their way to the OR waiting area. Dr. Early was just emerging, taking off his gloves.

"How is he, doc," Stoker asked before Roy could. Roy steadied the engineer as he took in the bloody gloves Early disposed of into a hazardous waste recepticle.

"Physically this was a set back but I think he's gonna be alright. We normally lightly sedate for chest tube extraction but given the trauma we had to put Gage out fully so that means another stint in recovery for a few hours before he goes back to the ICU. Mentally? Well that's another story altogether. We all know John's a strong young man but he's in for the fight of his life and in light of what happened here tonight he's going to wake with questions you won't be able to put off."

"But he _will_ wake?"

"Yes, Roy, he will wake."

"Then everything else will have to come as it does. We'll just have to stand between him and the world for a bit until it finds some other pastime."

With that statement, Mike shoulders drooped and he wobbled just a bit more.

Joe and Roy took Mike under the arms and guided him to a chair.

"You did good, Mike. If you hadn't attacked those _three _guys, Johnny could have been hurt a lot worse or killed. Don't blame yourself for this, please. You know Johnny and if he knew you were hurting, it'd tear him up even more," Early said.

"Thanks, Doc."

Joe cleared his throat. "Look, Roy, Johnny's gonna sleep for another two hours at least and I'll leave word with the recovery room staff that if John so much as moves his pinky they'll call you. Why don't you take our friend here to keep Johnny's bed warm for him?"

Roy knew the quiet engineer felt like crap when he didn't protest lying down in the ICU. Sighing, Roy picked up Mike's book and started reading out loud to soothe Mike and to keep himself awake. In two hours he woke Mike to check his vitals and do a neuro check to make sure his concussion hadn't worsened. Mike was groggy but okay. Roy handed him water with a plastic straw sticking out and two white tablets Dr. Morton has sent along for him. Mike took them before his eyes closed again.

XXXX

A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the recovery ward that stole all of the energy the young man it had come from had. Wild dark brown eyes searched frantically through the darkened room and he clawed at the oxygen mask covering his face that had failed to stifle the scream or the sobbing.

"Dr. Early warned us this might happen. Call upstairs and get his partner down here," ordered the head nurse of recovery as she tried to calm the young man.

Roy didn't wait for the elevators, he took the stairs two at a time, flying around banisters to get upstairs. He arrived breathless and was buzzed into recovery.

Gage's shoulders shook despite the braces on his collarbones though he seemed oblivious to the pain this should cause. Roy approached the bed, his hands out in front of him so John could see his face. There were no words. Roy just bent and hugged his partner as tightly as was safe and held on for dear life.

And there it was.

_"Why?"_

Roy had to tell him a half-truth. He knew why Gage's picture would be wanted, he just didn't know why or how anyone could do this to an innocent victim of his own heroics and a system that had failed him from the start.

"I don't know, Junior, all I can promise you is that it will never happen again."

John's shoulders stopped shaking and as per usual, anaesthetic made him sick. He lost his stomach contents, Mike's soup that he had so enjoyed as he looked forward to being sprung from the ICU soon. More tears followed caused by the dry heaves when John's stomach was empty.

When John's breathing finally evened out and the painful stomach contractions ended after a shot of anti nausea meds, he asked about Mike as if suddenly remembering.

"Stok … Stoker … Okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay, Johnny. Only you could lay in recovery and ask about someone else." Roy smiled down on him.

"I'm an engineer, Johnny, I have as hard a head as you any day," came a slightly mournful but still defiant voice from the doorway. And as usual you're still breaking all the rules, two visitors in recovery and all."

John knew he should be asking more questions but the drugs they had him on took away his will to hear more tonight. They were good like that. Truth was, the recovery room nurses were just glad that there was someone who could calm their patient down. Johnny was well known to most of them and he was special to them. Annoying as all sin sometimes but with a heart of pure gold and brave to boot. Many patients had rolled through singing the praises of the paramedics and Johnny and Roy in particular. Support for Johnny was growing to epic proportions in Rampart right behind his back.

XXXX

Johnny was surprised to wake to find out he'd been kept in recovery all night and wouldn't be going back to his room in the ICU. Roy walked beside the gurney, having sent Mike home an hour earlier after his last check up in the E.R.. John's eyes widened at the spacious private room.

"W …w-wait a min-minute, I'm not covered by our insurance for a private room," Gage told the orderlies who gently transferred him to the bed and began to pull his covers flat until Roy took over practically smacking their hands away.

A lie wouldn't come to Roy's lips soon enough so again, he had to settle for a half-truth. "The hospital doesn't want a repeat of last night and thought it would be best if you had a private room and put a fake name on the roster for now. Seems everyone wants to talk to you about your amnesia and your accident and being missing and all," Roy said, trying to sound upbeat about it. _Well, that and the fact that you're twenty-one freaking years old and have been running into burning buildings since you were seventeen! Roy thought though he kept it to himself. Oh, and you're suspended without pay so that ranch you were going to buy that I was too tired to go and look at? Yeah, forget it, you're gonna need a lawyer_. The thoughts were standing on the tip of Roy's tongue like an Olympic diver perched to take the leap into an empty swimming pool.

Johnny needed to be told. Today. His senses were sharper, he remembered everyone, he realized his aunt was gone and that he was a paramedic and fireman.

John was tired just from the trip from recovery and sore from the bed transfers where his new stitches from the surgery to repair the tear in his side were. He closed his eyes. For a second, Roy considered putting it off for another day as Gage was still on morphine in light of the attack last night and drifted from its affects from conversations and visits.

It wasn't fair to keep his friend in the dark any longer; in fact it might just be cruel.

"Uh, listen, Junior, I need to talk to you before anyone else comes to visit today. It's important. Do you think you can stay awake for a few more minutes?"

"Are you okay, Roy? Are the kids okay? I knew you should gone home."

Once again, Gage was concerned for a friend. How misplaced his heart was at this moment.

"No, Johnny, it's not me. It's you…"

Now that he'd started Desoto had no idea how to begin and the previous line was just as dorky as the first words he'd spoken to his partner when he'd finally woken up and recognized him.

"I think Cap told you that the ladies auxiliary helped Joanne and the guy's wives and relatives hang missing posters of you."

"Yeah…"

"Well, the police said we should find a picture of you out of uniform since we found your shirt at the top of the cliff and knew you weren't wearing one anymore when you went missing, so you were mostly in street clothes, your undershirt and all."

Roy looked up to see if Gage was following. So far he was clueless and talking again about how proud Gage was of his blues hurt because Roy knew where this conversation was going to end up.

"Well, you know you always told me there was a spare key over your door? I uh, used it and went to feed Blister and to find a picture of you alone out of uniform cause the only ones I had at home were of all of us, family pictures you know?"

Roy's use of the words family pictures when he was included in them choked Gage up a bit but he held it back despite the tiredness that made him more prone to emotion.

"There's no easy way to say this. I went in that nightstand drawer beside your bed and found a picture … and … some stuff fell on the floor."

Gage's eyes were wide now all sleepiness replaced with a painful throbbing in his chest that he hid by biting the inside of his lip.

"Johnny, I know."

That was all that needed saying for the moment. Johnny couldn't speak.

Roy went on with his confession but he'd have given anything not to have to watch the crushed expression take hold of his partner's face.

"Some legal papers fell out and I read them. Jo wanted me to look for unpaid bills and pay them for you and stuff too on top of looking for the photo so you wouldn't come back to a dark apartment with no running water or something like that so I was scanning stuff. I wasn't trying to invade your privacy but I saw … I saw your real birth certificate."

There. He'd said it. Roy wanted to put his hands up to his face and peak at his partner's reaction through the holes between the fingers but he faced him head on.

"You read it, didn't you?"

Gage's voice was little more than a whisper.

"I did."

What more could Roy say?

John didn't look mad or scared or anything else. His face was a mask.

"You can be mad at me…" Roy told him.

Still nothing.

So Roy went on. He had to. God how he hated this.

It turns out it's a good thing that I found out because while you were missing the news went national and of course we were looking for a twenty five year old…"

Gage just nodded as Roy saw him make the leap as to what happened next.

"The guys know."

Gage nodded again.

"And the wives."

Another nod.

"And somehow it got out. John, God, I'm so so sorry but headquarters has suspended you without pay. Captain Stanley put his job on the line shouting at anyone who would listen at headquarters and actually you have support there too but regulations have to be followed and once we get you better you're gonna have to go before the tribunal and…"

"And do what? It's all t-true. I'm a loser. Hell most kids run away and join the circus, I had to run away and join the-the damn fire department." Johnny raked his hand over his chin trying to contain the fear and sadness that were exploding in him like a shaken pop bottle.

_Okay, so no rant then. _This wasn't good. It was as if Johnny knew he'd lose before he even fought and he didn't even know what to fight for.

"And the journal?"

Roy hung his head in answer.

Another nod from Gage.

"I need to be alone. P… please."

"Junior, we don't need to talk further right now. There's lots to talk about but I want you to know you're not alone and we all stand behind you."

John looked up with red-rimmed eyes and the look on his face was resigned relief. He looked so damned young it stung Roy's heart. It was almost as if now that everyone knew how old he was, he dropped the façade. If anything he looked younger than twenty-one, so lost and vulnerable.

"Come on, partner, let me get you settled and I'll ask Dr. Early for a mild sedative so you can sleep. I know it's been a shock and…"

"Please don't c-call me that anymore, Roy. I'm n-not, your partner anymore. I'm not a f-fireman any-anymore. I … I'm … nobody."

"Come on, Johnny, you know that isn't true. Cap and the guys have been worried sick about you, and before you go telling me it's because you're a screw up, let me tell you different. While we were searching for you we always got to talking about the things you've done, saving lives, sometimes ours, heck, Johnny, you're part of the reason the paramedic program is in operation today. Brackett pretty much hated the lot of us from the get go and you got under his skin. In a bad way at first of course but something about you and your enthusiasm about the whole thing was contagious. See I tried to _tell_ him that the paramedic program would catch on and we'd get recruits, you _showed_ him. John you've saved the lives of people you've never even met."

Johnny wished he'd turned down the morphine he was given up in recovery. His head was spinning and that was always when the memories seemed harder to squash down. He'd been told he was a loser in his past, that he'd never amount to anything and now all he could do was lay there and wish that he'd never got accepted to the fire academy because no, at this point it wasn't better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. It just hurt. John loved saving people but right now he didn't have the fight left in him to save himself.

"P-paper? Pen?"

Roy had seen this look on John's face on a few occasions, times when he was completely overcome. He knew what John had on his mind.

"You're not quitting."

"Please. If … if I quit, then maybe, maybe they won't f-fire me. I can walk … walk away."

John's hands shook and his stuttering worsened. It hadn't really subsided since the young man had woken up and Roy was starting to worry about possible physical reasons for it on top of the usual tension-caused stuttering he did when he was frustrated.

"No. I'm not letting you quit."

"I'm n-not a kid. I don … don't need your p-permission."

Anger flared momentarily in Roy. He bit his tongue. _Yeah, Junior, you are a kid._ But looking at John he just couldn't say it. Instead it came out like this; "No, you're not a kid, but technically until three weeks ago you were. I'd like you to give yourself three weeks more to be a kid. To really be a kid. To hide behind a grown up just this once, feel what it's like to let someone look after you for a change. To hide behind me, Junior, and the rest of the guys, let us run in first to save you just this once."

"I … n-need to think, Roy. I need to think but I can't. Hurts … Roy. J- jus got the sh-shot a little while ag … ago and-and my side's on fire. It still takes me a minute to remember the … the guy's names when they come to s-see me. Yesterday I … lost it again, Roy. I f-forgot who I was and I thought I'd-I'd have to do it all … all over again. I can't. I can't Roy. Plese don't … don't make me."

Roy bit back tears. So much for men don't cry. He leaned John into his chest and just held him feeling the heat radiate from his body knowing he'd have to call someone to give John a fever reducer, something that would no doubt fog his mind back up and he was loathe to do it even as his friend begged for clarity in a tidal wave.

"Johnny, look at me. Roy held Johnny out from him and rested him back on his pillows. You had a concussion, you nearly drowned and your body has been through a massive trauma. It's normal for you to be confused. Brackett said it'll all come back. It's just gonna take a bit of time and right now, no matter how crappy the reason, you have it. Time. We're gonna take one day a time, get you better. You're gonna be okay."

Roy was careful not to promise John his job back.

"I was … alone for a long time. Bu th-there was always something keep- keeping me going. I wasn't scared once I got away. I don't know where I'm, where I'm going now."

"Well, wherever it is, I'm gonna be there, the guys are gonna be there."

"Scared, Roy. God … I'm sc-scared."

John Gage had been held at knife point, gun point, ran into burning buildings that others were running out of, faced devastating loss and not once to Roy's knowledge had he ever said he was scared.

"I know you are. But I promise you, no matter what happens, you have me, Jo and the kids. You have a family. You've always looked after us. Look at that time Jo and I had the flu and you took the kids for the weekend. My roof leaked in the middle of the night and you came over after working a double to help me fix it."

Roy adjusted the nasal canula that slipped with the tears loosening the tape. He wet a cloth and sponged Gage's face. He didn't want to wait too long before calling for a fever reducer but he wanted to give him time to compose himself. Johnny hated hospitals as it was and if he could, Roy knew he'd get up and walk out.

"Roy?" Gage called through watery tears as Roy filled a glass of water for him.

"Yeah, Pal?"

"My roof's leak… leaking." John tapped the top of his head.

Roy risked a bit of humor. "What's new Junior?"

A half choked laugh-sob was all he got in return as Gage leaned into the cool cloth as Roy pushed the call button.

Dr. Brackett arrived five minutes later and didn't like the swollen puffy eyes of his young patient but suspected the dreaded conversation had finally happened. He made small talk as he checked on Johnny's side, relieved that it wasn't infecting. He injected a fever reducer to the IV port feeling stress was knocking John's immune system for a loop and prolonging recovery.

As Brackett checked the braces, John's eyes opened from half-mast to wide when he realized something.

"Dr. Brack … Brackett … Did I, did I get … get you into trouble too?"

Brackett knew this question was coming. He and John had had a long talk one night when John was in isolation for suspected radiation exposure. John had a nightmare that night; a bad one and Brackett had heard most of it. Some of it had been nonsense about Adam-12 but Gage had dreamed that Malloy had come to take him away because he was too young to be a fireman. Gage of course had tried to deny any basis in reality but the height charts in Kell's hands that night didn't lie. John was growing well past when a typical male had major growth spurts and while still skinny was filling out. Kell was a doctor; physiological changes did not escape his watchful eyes. They had agreed on some terms and conditions and nothing was written in John's chart.

John never could figure out why the seemingly straight laced doctor would keep such a deep secret for someone who could have been let go from the paramedic and fire station without much of a ripple. There was just something about the young man that spoke of trust and innocence and curiosity, something that set off a protective mechanism in him that he didn't know he had.

"No, John, I'm not in trouble but if it comes to it, know this; I knew what I was getting myself into when I noticed the discrepancies in your charts. You never asked me to keep your secret. I did it of my own free will and I forbid you as your doctor and your friend from worrying about me. I have doctor-patient confidentiality on my side and besides, Dix says I'm a bear; I can take care of myself.

Roy and Dr. Brackett spoke for a few minutes and when they looked back to John, he was asleep, his breath still catching in small hiccups of stress.

Roy pulled the covers up over his friend.

"Sleep, Junior, you need it."

XXXX

Roy used the opportunity while Brackett was there to go make a few phone calls. Shift A was at the station having just returned from a call. Everyone knew this day would come too soon, when the cocoon they'd tried their best to spin their youngest crew member in would break open. As the call ended Roy heard Cap calling a meeting. They were going to put up a united front and keep their stories straight. They were going to defend their own … They were going to _accidentally _wash those reporters who were camped out across from station fifty one with a low pressure set fire hose for had happened to Johnny and Stoker who had to take the day off to recover.

Roy picked up the phone and dialled his wife. As soon as her voice came on the line he started spilling his guts about everything that had happened since she'd left. When he was done talking to Joanne, he was a little consoled. Joanne would be bringing the kids by to see their Uncle Johnny when he woke up and if nothing else could cheer the young paramedic up, Jenny and Chris could.

It was early evening when Roy told Johnny that Jo and the kids would be coming in soon, he refused his scheduled morphine asking if it could wait for a little while. The nurse checked with Dr. Brackett who wasn't too pleased about John's request but could understand the reason for it. He told the nurse to remind John to use his call button and get the shot before the pain got out of hand.

Joanne busied herself in the kitchen making some homemade vanilla pudding for Johnny. She stirred whole milk as it slowly heated knowing Johnny could use the calories and that it would sit well on his stomach.

XXXX

Roy and Joanne talked for a bit before John noticed how tired Roy was.

"Roy … you … you sh-should go h-home for awhile," John said as he enjoyed his pudding hoping his stomach wouldn't betray him later.

Roy protested and John joked that he needed a shower.

It had been days since Roy had properly slept. He agreed to go home for two hours to get some rest while Jo and the kids would keep Johnny company.

"Uncle Johnny, where's Johnny B. Good?" Jenny asked searching the table beside the bed.

John had been so tired and drugged after the attack he'd forgotten about the precious bear Jenny had given him. Guilt washed over the young man. He had no idea where it was.

Seeing the classic guilt creep onto John's face, Joanne told Jenny and Chris to be good while she went to the ICU to find out if some of John's belongings had been left there in the commotion and the move.

"It's okay, Uncle Johnny, we'll find him," Jenny stated confidently.

"It's a him?" Johnny asked, remembering the tiny feathered hat it wore.

"Yeah, he has a hat just like the one you wear at my tea parties. Didn't you notice?"

John felt a genuine smile creep onto his face.

"Uncle Johnny, I brought you a model airplane to work on. Dad says your hands will feel better now that the bandages are off and so your cuts can dry and heal," Chris told him. He and Chris had built an entire fleet of airplanes and trains over the past three years.

"This is a dandy," Gage admired. It didn't slip his or the kid's notice that he didn't stutter when it was just he, Chris and Jen. He'd slept off the morphine and felt clear headed for the first time since … a long time.

Joanne stood outside the door not wanting to break the news that Johnny B. Good was missing in action. She'd searched the gift shop hoping to replace him with an exact replica but none of the little bears there had a little feathered hat. She too noticed that Gage didn't stutter around the kids. She let them have a few more moments while she went down the hall and got herself a cup of horrible vending machine coffee to help her stay awake. When this was all over, they were all going to need a vacation.

The things that come from the mouth of babes, the pure innocence of it all; Jenny asked her Uncle Johnny point-blank why he stuttered in front of adults since the accident. She even pointed out that he only stuttered once in awhile when he got mad or upset in the past. 'Like when you hit your finger with the hammer when you were helping Daddy with the fence', she added helpfully. "And you said that hammer was a piece of sh—

"Sugar," Chris smoothed over before Jenny could say more.

John turned his head away from her smiling to himself and making a mental note to stop cussing when he got hurt in front of the kids and Jenny mistook the gesture for anger.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Johnny! I didn't mean to be mean. I just wanted to know and to help you slow down. We have a boy in my class who stutters and Mrs. Lesee gets us kids to help him to speak, to slow down and take his time and to not be embarrassed because it'll get better. Sometimes you talk too fast too, Uncle Johnny, how come?" she asked, walking around the bed and John didn't dare turn his face away from her for fear of breaking her heart.

"I … I don … don't know." John searched the ceiling for answers for a minute before looking his niece in the eyes. "M-m maybe I do. I c-can't tell you now, though. Is-is that okay?"

Jenny seemed to be sizing her Uncle up to see if he was lying and Chris looked like he was just holding back kicking her under the bed table.

"Mommy says it's good to talk things out. You should do that but I'll wait. You can phone me if you want to talk."

Johnny laughed through eyes that were too shiny. If Jenny noticed she at least kept that to herself.

"I know the number. It's … it's 555-BEAN, right?"

"M'not a jelly bean, Uncle Johnny," Jenny blushed at the affectionate nickname.

"You'll always be my little Jelly Bean."

Jenny hopped up onto the bed and Joanne rushed in to grab her before she hurt Johnny but Johnny held up his hand. Jenny's little arms embraced his neck and she kissed him gently on the cheek.

John wished he had some money at the hospital with him so he could send the kids to the cafeteria for a treat. He always brought them treats and felt wholly inadequate at not being able to when they'd done so much for him today.

Joanne wanted to talk to John alone so she slipped him some money while the kids were looking out the window describing the sites to Johnny.

John silently thanked her as he called the kids over and gave them the treat money. They promised to go straight to the cafeteria and back.

When the kids left, John tried really hard not to stutter. He concentrated on what he wanted to say but cursed his body. He was tired already and fatigued with pain.

"Jo, how … how bad is this?"

Joanne looked straight into her brother-figure's eyes and told him the truth.

"It's bad, Johnny. I knew you were going to ask me instead of Roy but you mustn't blame Roy for not telling you the whole story. He's very protective of you. We all are but I think part of the reason he agreed to go home without being towed out of here by wild horses was so that you and I could talk."

"I … I don't think wi-wild horses would have been enough," Gage replied as pride swelled in his throat and choked him up. "I … I just don't know why. I lied. To him. To the … the guys…"

"Yeah, you did. You can't change that, though and they've had more time than you have to come to terms with it and they seem okay with it. The leap from forgiveness to fierce protection took oh I'd say, fifteen minutes when they found out … when they found out the reason."

"Roy t-t-told them!"

"Not everything, Johnny. Not everything. That'll be up to you to tell them when and if you choose but yes, he told them you had a hard time of things when you were young … and that you're still young and working things out."

"That's the … the thing I'm being fired anyhow then. How can they t-t-trust me knowing that at the f-first time I'm l-left to deal with something on my own, I screw it up and end … end up a-a basket case?"

"You weren't there with those men when you were missing John Gage. The last thing they think you are is a screw up. If anything they admire you for your strength for getting out of what you went through. If you really doubt them that much maybe it is a good thing you're quitting."

That got his attention.

"Who's quitting?" asked Cap striding into the room.

John looked stricken. How much had Cap heard?

"Answer your Captain, John, the one who has spent the last several days juggling schedules, making phone calls, running interference and saving you from you being fired before you could defend yourself." Joanne could do tough love if that's what it took though she had to admit she preferred the soft touch any day.

John straightened himself as much as he could and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"No one's quitting Cap, Sir," he whispered, followed by an escaped, "Why d-do you want me still?"

"Because you're the only bean pole we got that can fit into tight spaces, because the other guys don't want run the gauntlet while a pigeon replacement is found, because we don't like to do dishes, cheesh Johnny Boy can't you just take a compliment?" Chet asked strolling in, carrying a present wrapped in blue paper with a big bow on top.

"Yeah, that too …" Cap Stanley said absently as the very outspoken phantom entered the room. "Ya twit," he added affectionately.

In a way, Gage was just as glad not to have gotten a tearjerker of a response to his question. He accepted the present and tore off the paper without too much pain in his hands.

Inside the box was a shiny new badge with Gage's number on it and a new name tag with a very sleek leather wallet that cleverly had a small clasp on it to make it easy to carry even when out on a run.

"Yours was lost," explained Marco crowding in around Cap and Chet. "Roy found your shirt when the roads opened back up but your badge and tags must've fallen off."

John didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. He swallowed down the fear that he'd never get to pin this badge and nametag on again, that they would become dust- covered mementos of a better time on a shelf wherever he ended up if was fired at his hearing.

John looked at his shift mates, his friends. How could he live if he couldn't work with them anymore, prove himself worthy? He tried to fight his increasing heart rate but the pain made it that much harder. The beeping increased on his monitor and a nurse wove her way through the crowd in his room.

John wanted to refuse the morphine but the pain was intense in so many ways. He managed to gain better control of his breathing as Captain Stanley put a hand on his shoulder riding it out together.

The nurse injected the morphine into the port of his IV and a warm sensation shot up his arm causing him to sigh at the anticipated relief. The monitors however had different ideas.

"Mr. Gage, you need to calm down or I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave."

The drugs began to make Gage loose-tongued.

"They won't leave m-me. They p-promised. Look what they gave me," he slurred. "I-I don't want to leave them."

Captain Stanley picked up his HT and called the station in available patting John on the shoulder one last time before motioning his worried crew out. The nurse was kind enough to explain that the medications their crew mate was on made it hard for him to control his emotions and coupled with the concussion syndrome it was doubly so.

The nurse took John's blood pressure, taking note of it in the charts and trying to get him to calm down until the pain meds took affect.

"You let it go too long," she tutted in sympathy. She brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead noting that his fever had at least abated. "I'm going to lower the bed now, okay and you're going to try to calm down."

Jenny snaked her way through the retreating men and the nurse and up onto Johnny's bed.

"Uncle Johnny, listen to your nurse. You need to be like a clam just like she says," Jennifer told him, taking one of his cheeks in her little hand and using the other like a little clam pincer. Joanne almost stood up to take her daughter down from the bed again and remind her that the nurse had said calm, not clam but John's monitors spoke for themselves. His heart rate was returning to normal and he was quiet.

Jennifer looked just a bit smug when she addressed her mother and the nurse next.

My teacher told us that pets were good for people's health but I never heard of anyone having a clam as a pet before. I'll ask her what other pets make people calm when summer is over okay, Uncle Johnny? I'll bet Blister keeps you calm and don't worry about him either, we'll take good care of him for you, okay?"

"Kay … Jelly Bean."

And with that quiet acceptance that he should make like a clam and … go to sleep? John did just that.

Roy returned to the hospital to find Chris and Joanne playing a quiet game of cards. His daughter was snuggled into John's side, one of her tiny arms draped across his chest. He wished he had a camera but the snapshot he took in his mind would have to do.

Joanne told him about John's having gone too long without his pain meds and that Dr. Brackett had left orders for a new pain medication to be administered without fail at the prescribed times. Roy just had to take that as a good sign. John always refused treatment so that was at least normal for him.

Looking at Johnny so innocent in sleep Roy wondered how anyone could ever hurt him.

Joanne took Chris home. She and Roy decided they might as well let sleeping princesses and princes lay. There was no school and they both needed their sleep.

Johnny woke sometime in the night, his arm asleep, pins and needles in his hand. He panicked momentarily until he looked down to find Jennifer tucked around him sound asleep. Suddenly the pins and needles were worth it. He shifted, trying to get comfortable as he saw to his amusement that Roy had fallen asleep sitting up, mouth hanging open with a cup of coffee in his hands. Soon he drifted back to sleep.

XXXX

Dixie McCall stopped by to see John in the early morning before her shift. She brought him some oatmeal from home with peaches and cinnamon in it. She giggled as he put his hand to his mouth in a _shhh _gesture. Jennifer and Roy were still asleep.

The giggling woke Roy who in turn woke Jenny. She yawned, her little eyes squinting up into Johnny's face without sitting up.

"Good morning, Uncle Johnny."

"Good morning Jelly Bean," Johnny said, tickling under her chin. He hated to do it but he had to ask her to climb down. The tight braces on his upper shoulders needed adjusting as they were digging into his skin from having lain so still for so long. Jenny woke her dad while Nurse McCall fussed with Johnny's braces and poured a small bit of milk onto his oatmeal. She then went and ordered a breakfast tray for Jennifer and Roy. Being head nurse even thought this wasn't her department had its privileges. She pressed a cup of coffee into Roy's hands and when Johnny looked a bit sad, he was brightened immediately when she handed him a cup of coffee too.

"Dr. Early said you can have one cup a day now," she announced, watching the young man sniff the rich brew. Okay, it was hospital coffee but he hadn't had coffee in a long time and it smelled good.

John ate the oatmeal the same way he'd eaten the pudding the previous night, by holding the spoon caveman style, which was all he could manage with the still healing rope burns. He was going to leave some in his bowl but Jennifer's hands on her hips had him reaching for his spoon again.

"Wow, we could use you around the station," Roy teased her.

"Nah, I'm gonna be an astronaut, Daddy."

Roy had no doubt that if she wanted it to, the moon would come to her.

Roy took Jennifer home during Johnny's examination by Dr. Early.

"Okay, John, deep breath in then hold it." Dr. Early glided the stethoscope over John's chest and then his back. He held up X-rays that had been taken after his surgery so he could show him that no further damage had been done to his collarbones in the assault.

"Looks like your collarbones are knitting together well, Johnny. Your blood results are promising too, your red count is approaching normal. I think you'll be ready to go …" He was going to say home, but there was no way John could go home by himself in this condition alone, let alone with the media wanting a literal piece of him. "We'll talk about releasing you in about four days," he amended. "Roy has next week off and he and Joanne would like you to go home with them instead of back to your apartment.

John had stayed a few times at the Desoto's when he'd been hurt or there had been a late night get together or to baby sit Chris and Jen when Joanne and Roy went away. John didn't want to be a burden but the minute Early saw signs of refusal he put a stop to it.

"Or you could stay a whole week here longer so we know you'll be ready for release."

"Dirt … dirty pool, Doc," John complained. "Roy's al-already taken leave for me. He's barely le-left."

"So, he'll be more comfortable watching out for you from the comfort of his own home."

Gage warred with himself over whether his hatred of hospitals or being a burden to his friends outweighed what he wanted. He knew he didn't have a choice.

It seemed to take forever for Gage to process through his thoughts that he was going home in four days, well to Roy's home which was the next best thing, better if he could admit it to himself.

"Knock Knock came a very bold voice from the door as it opened without a real knock or invitation.

"Oops, sorry there Johnny Boy," Kristy giggled as John flushed ten shades of red and pulled the hospital gown up over his chest.

"Oh relax, it's nothing I haven't seen before. I watched Dix cut your clothes off after that last ride along we had, remember? Speaking of which, when you go back to work, do you think you can swing it with Captain Stanley to let me do another?"

"You are un-unbelievable, you know that?"

"And you've grown two more chest hairs since last I saw you to keep the one you had before company Mr. Gage."

"Shut up, Kristy," John said.

Dr. Early was about to ask the young woman to leave but he realized that the strange banter between the two was meant as friendly.

"Make me hose jockey. Oh, I have something for you," Kristy said, pulling out something feathery from her large bag. For a second, John was happy thinking it was Johnny B. Good with his goofy little hat. But it wasn't.

"It's a dream catcher," Kristy said. One of the elders from your reservation sent it back with me when I went to Montana to interview them."

"You did what!"

Dr. Early warned Gage to remain calm. He stayed while Kristy said her piece, both to be there in case John's heart rate got too high and to save Kristy. Gage looked mutinous.

John could understand why Roy and Joanne hadn't explained that his story was out in public like the dirtiest laundry he'd ever had. Kristy told him everything.

"You sure that's it? I wasn't abducted by aliens and probed while away or anything else? Just had my life ripped away from me for the whole world to paw at?"

"If it helps at all, Johnny, I've been doing my best to remind the public what a good person you are, what a good fireman you are and how many people you've saved and the houses so people could go home instead of losing everything. And I wasn't going to tell you about the probing," she added unhelpfully, a devilish grin on her face.

John looked at Kristy. He wanted to be angry that she'd written about him but he couldn't find it in his heart. She was trying to help and he had to admit the phrase, keep your friends close, your enemies closer came to mind when it came to Kristy but really she was becoming a good friend.

John and Kristy talked and Kristy jotted some things down while John glared at her every time she did that. She had the grace to ask what she could print and what she could not. Aunt Rose's passing away was off limits. The child abuse he'd suffered was off limits, hell, he hadn't even told the guys about that though he knew they were smart and probably had put two and two together.

"Listen, John, I know the jackals that work in this business. If there's a vulnerable secret they're going to dig until they find it. I hate to tell you that when I'm talking to you I can see right through you."

John opened and closed his mouth like a fish on a dock.

"Before you say anything, not that you could at the moment … I don't mean that in a bad way. I'm only saying that you have an expressive face and even though you keep the important stuff locked down deep, your heart is on your sleeve scrolling like the billboard in Times Square."

Gage's shoulders slumped and he looked down.

"R-Roy says I-I talk too much."

"That's because you do, about everything around you and stuff that skims the surface of your life but you don't let anyone dent the three coats of armour you wear over your heart under your badge every day."

Gage was about to protest but closed his mouth.

"Look, I don't want to pry into your personal life; well, okay, I do, why lie? But the truth is the media have already started filling in the blanks about the life of John Gage with lies and rhetoric that have to be worse than any truth you could tell."

"Th-that's where you're wrong. D-dead wrong."

"Johnny, I know you're tired and this can wait until later but not by much. I should tell what has been going on since your accident. Roy and Joanne, they know but they and the doctors are unsure of how to tell you about it all, and well, you really don't like me anyway so I have nothing to lose by being the one to do it."

"I like you," admitted John so quietly Kristy barely heard it.

"You shouldn't have said that," Kristy complained. She'd known it for awhile. John didn't want to date her but a weird friendship of heated debates and outright arguments and even a bit of mutual trust had developed. His vocal admission made what she was about to do even more painful but she wore the mask of the reporter he'd met at her first ride along.

"John, they're digging into your past. It's not just about your age anymore. They want to know why you did it. They visited the reservation and when they couldn't find anyone to say an unkind word about you, they centred their stories on the reservation and its people, they turned to your school records and tried to make you look unqualified but I got copies of your records and set that straight, but John, you're the only one who can straighten up the personal lies."

"Why should I? I made a mistake and I'm gonna pay for it with my job, with my life when it c-comes right down to it. What more do they want, my b-blood?"

"Yes. Hence the term blood suckers," Kristy answered solemnly.

Kristy watched as John's eyes slid shut involuntarily and she didn't envy the nightmares that would come from the truth he'd just been smacked in the gut with. His eyes opened up a few minutes later.

"Did … Nina; you know the people wh-who I stayed with … tell you… g-god this…"

"Nina told us about the scars on your back, yes." Kristy used her matter of fact reporter voice because if she'd tried to lose the voice she'd had before she'd hardened up after college she'd have broken there and then.

"Roy knows about 'em. He asked once. I-I-I told him to p-please drop it. He did but I always caught him looking at 'em when … whenever I g-got hurt or something."

"And?" Kristy prompted, getting a stomach ache just thinking about the pain those scars must've inflicted.

"I can't, K-Kristy."

Kristy wanted so desperately to let John off the hook, hell, she wanted to let herself off the hook but she persisted knowing that the more the other stations prodded, the more they would find out. They'd turn over every stone, old medical records, retired medical personnel from hospitals and schools around the reservation until his past would bleed across the screens of Americans all over the country.

"It's already started, Gage," she said, needing to use his last name because saying Johnny would make her cry.

Looking all of eighteen years old through the unruly bangs dangling over his forehead he asked, "What g-good will whine-whining about the p-past do? I li-lived didn't I?"

"That's the whole point," Kristy said, hoping Gage would catch on to what she was saying so she wouldn't remind him what pond scum some reporters could be.

"If the other reporters find out about your abusive past…" There she'd said it. "They will be ruthless. They will say you are unstable. They will say it's because you're Indian. They will blame the reservation. They will blame you …"

"STOP! P-please. Just, please, st-stop." John begged, his head buried in his hands. He would not cry in front of this woman especially her, she who never cries, she who never has a vulnerable moment, knows what she wants and gets it at all times.

John stole a glance up, at _that woman _… who was shaking with silent tears on his behalf. Whatever picture John had in his head of Kristy melted away.

"I'm going to tell you something John Gage and I want you to listen well 'cause I'm only gonna say it once. Do you know why I came on so strong when I first met you? Because I had a boyfriend in college who thought he could walk all over me. He told me I could be the weather girl to his anchorman. It sounded almost appealing until our second year when he thought I should be okay with him dating other girls on the side, ones who were taking 'real' courses for girls like secretarial and dental assistant. When I laughed at him and asked him if he was stuck in old Leave It To Beaver episodes he hit me."

John's fists clenched at that, completely forgetting his own troubles.

"And do you know what I did?"

Gage just shook his head knowing that the question was largely rhetorical.

"I stayed for more for, the whole second year, until I went home for summer break with a black eye and a broken arm. Over the summer, I watched my parents. Sure, they argued, all people do but dad never hit her. I knew it was wrong and I was ashamed for not stopping it before that. I went back to school intending to break it off but I never had to. He was already in jail for striking a female dental assistant student, one of the 'real woman' courses he talked about."

"I'm … I'm sorry, K-Kristy," John said quietly.

"You shouldn't be, you didn't do anything. Neither did I. But I showed up at fifty-one with a chip on my shoulder and I could have ruined everything, including my own career because I only wanted to see what my old boyfriend had conditioned me to see."

Kristy sure got off that topic fast and pinned John with determined eyes that he couldn't look away from.

"The public will only see what people tell them. But if it comes from the horse's mouth as opposed to the rider's they might listen better and understand better. Public opinion will be eighty percent of your case to retain your standing in the department and avoid fines."

"B-but what has any of this got to with … my scars."

"You tell me?"

"Ca-can't. God, Kristy, it-it isn't j-just the sc-scars. I have to talk to R-roy."

Kristy let a relieved sigh. She hoped that John would at least talk to Roy about his childhood finally. It was clear that deeper scars remained, the ones he wore on his very soul.

"Roy'll help me d-decide what I can t-tell you. But I'm not promisin' any-anything."

"I know. And John, please. Know I'm only doing this for you. I wouldn't touch this story with a ten-foot pole otherwise. Oh, and don't get the idea that I still don't disagree with the male only firefighter thing. I'm not done with that."

John laughed, feeling some of the tension lessen. He didn't necessarily agree with Kristy but he was glad she was being honest and if she could open her eyes and see him for what he was and not the ego filled jerk she'd first seen then he could keep an open mind on some of her causes. Maybe he could learn from her and maybe one day he'd have sisters to add to his brothers on the squad.

Kristy could tell Johnny was hurting again and he'd missed Roy sticking his head in the door and beating a hasty retreat when Kristy motioned that they weren't done talking yet. She'd pulled no punches; she'd told him about his pay freeze, the fact that he'd have to get a lawyer and all the other nasty aspects of the case.

Johnny took it all as stoically as he could. Thinking about the check he'd filled in for Chris and Jen he vowed he'd go to his hearing without representation if he had to before he'd let that money go to anyone but to Roy's kids. He closed his eyes with a small moan of pain and sorrow as he watched his dream ranch dissolve behind his closed eyes.

His eyes opened back up in confusion as the smell of lavender filled his senses. Kristy leaned over him, fluffing up his pillows and pressing a straw into his dry mouth as she pushed the call button. The comforting gestures looked foreign to her and she was awkward but tender and caring. It suited her. John liked the hard reporter and the fact that she could show her soft side flared hope in his heart that he'd be able to open up a bit like she'd done.

Kristy straightened suddenly when Dr. Early entered. She was all business again.

"Here's my card, Mr. Gage," she said, though she winked at him as she left.

Gage blinked at her and smiled tiredly feeling like he'd been run over by a truck.

Roy caught Kristy in the hallway. There was something about the young woman Roy couldn't place. She was paler, maybe a bit unsure. Roy didn't think that was a bad thing because a person whose mind is already made up is one who doesn't see the world. He'd always liked the young woman despite the mutual venom between her and his partner that drove him crazy for a week not so very long ago.

"You should see the other guy," Kristy joked, knowing that her makeup was running and she looked like she'd gone ten rounds with a heavy weight boxer.

"Kicking a man when he's down? Not even you would do that," Roy said in a friendly way, giving Kristy time to compose herself.

"God, that was the hardest … interview? I don't know what it was … felt more like a brow beating for the both of us."

Kristy didn't elaborate further. Roy handed her a tissue in a gesture that only a year ago would have had her shouting about women's lib and his misguided chivalry. Now a more mature version accepted the tissue for what it was, a gesture of friendship and concern. The men of fifty-one had taught her a very valuable lesson and she was going to help them.

If Kristy looked this down trodden, Roy was anxious to get to his friend. He and Kristy made plans for Kristy to come over for dinner with he and Joanne to discuss things once John was ready to defend himself a bit more.

Roy entered John's room and took a seat waiting for Dr. Early to finish up his examination. John looked paler than when Roy had left and he was glad he wasn't the one who had to tell John the more unpleasant aspect to being suddenly thrust into public domain.

Dr. Early gave John a milder painkiller than morphine and ordered John to report any side effects or let him know if the pain relief was inadequate. Failing that, he asked Roy to report it knowing the senior paramedic could always tell when John was hurting.

John fell asleep after a weak nod to Roy. Roy followed Dr. Early out of the room not liking how pale his friend was. He was relieved to find out that Johnny hadn't had any setbacks today, and Early suspected that the conversation with Kristy just depleted any reserves John had.

"If all goes well, we'll take the Foley catheter out tomorrow and maybe get him standing for a few minutes and taking a few steps."

"That's great news, Doc, he's been driving me crazy about that, asking me ten times a day to ask you to remove it."

Early smiled in on the young man in the bed once more before patting Roy on the shoulder and leaving to go on his rounds.

Roy fussed with Gage's covers; he couldn't help it. Kristy warned him that today might just be the day he learned the darker secrets of John Gage.


	9. Chapter 9

Roy watched his young partner's breath hitch every so often in sleep. Rapid eye movement under heavy lids indicated dreams and the soft keening sounds meant they weren't good ones. It wasn't the first time Roy witnessed one of Gage's sleepless or troubled nights but he was never able to figure out what the quiet pleading was before now.

"Please, stop. I-I-I'll be good. PLEASE!"

John sat up suddenly his face registering pain but he wasn't in the moment. Unseeing eyes opened and stared right through Roy and the walls of Rampart into the past. John uttered a few words Roy didn't understand, mixing them with English. John's left arm came up as if to ward off a blow and Roy gently lowered it and held both of his arms firmly to his chest so he wouldn't hurt himself again. The brace slipped and John's breathing grew more ragged.

"Johnny? It's me, Roy. I need you to wake up, partner."

"L-l-lemme go. I-I don't want … I can't … Please…"

Roy never loosened his grip terrified that Gage would do more damage to himself.

_A battle raged within him. He was trapped in his past, his hair gripped in someone's fist at the back of his neck as he writhed on the floor._

_'I told you to clean the floors! Do they look clean to you?'_

_His face was smashed against the cracked linoleum again and again._

_'I w-was jus-just finishing my homework and I was gon-gonna do it. I swear!'_

_His twelve-year-old body was left battered and broken as he scrubbed away the blood and mud from his stepfather's boots, the mantra of apology after apology repeating in his head._

_John scrubbed until sunlight streamed through the window. He looked up in confusion. Someone stood outside, someone he should know. A familiar voice called his name. It echoed and split in two, one close and one far away. When the closer voice was winning the volume contest the pain subsided; he could breathe._

_John looked around the rickety old room but now he was standing and he was taller. There was no furniture left._

"John, come back to us. It's me, Roy. You know me. You're not there anymore. No one's gonna hurt you again."

_All he had to do was go open the window and he could get away._

_He flattened himself against the peeling wallpaper as a voice called from the bedroom._

_'Open that window and I'll kill you.'_

_The window was only four feet away._

"Come on back to us, Junior."

_It was so close. He'd had dreams like this before and he just knew it was a trap. It was one of those dreams where his legs ran exhausting miles but he was never free of what was chasing him._

Gage's monitors finally peaked and the alarms blared summoning a nurse and still Gage stared at Roy's face, unseeing, seemingly unhearing.

The leads attached to John's chest fell away with sweat and exertion. Roy placed his forefinger over his pulse point. Too fast.

"Come on, Johnny. It's time to wake up. It's time to leave wherever you are. You don't have to stay there any longer."

_'If you open that window I'll kill you.'_

The nurse readied a shot of muscle relaxant as Dr. Brackett entered the room. He spoke calmly and asked for the vitals. He signalled for the nurse to hold off for a minute as Roy fought an invisible ghost that was messing with his partner's brain.

"Junior, please…"

Roy looked pleadingly at Dr. Brackett before taking another route. He made his voice hard and cold.

"Leave him alone. He's just a kid. He didn't do anything wrong. He's a good person."

_The curtains billowed with a gust of wind blinding him with dust even as the sun shone through. His eyes were gritty and he was sleepy. Outside the window offers of sleep and safety beckoned. When had he gotten so tall? When had anyone come for him?_

_'Close the window. Now!'_

_'No.'_

"NO!" John's voice was defiant as his body jerked but was held firmly by Brackett and Roy.

_He ran toward the window not daring to look back and flung it open and leapt out. He fell for a long time though the ground was a few feet away._

Brown eyes with still too-large pupils came into focus before they rolled back in John's head and he was lowered onto his back. Roy reached for his pulse again and found it still hammering at dangerous levels but slowing minimally.

Dr. Brackett had the nurse administer the muscle relaxant. Gage's hands were white with exertion still gripping the sheets beside him, his posture rigid. It was seconds before he inhaled choppy large breaths as his fingers slackened. His eyes opened and blinked lazily up at Roy and Dr. Brackett.

"Wh-what happened?"

Roy wanted to lie but the psychiatrist who was consulting on John's treatment told Roy to always answer honestly.

"You had a nightmare. A bad one."

John was ashamed to admit he'd rather have heard that he'd had some sort of physical setback. Nightmares were for children and wimps.

"S-sorry."

Roy scrubbed a hand over his face, something he swore was going to end up cancelling the need for a shave if it kept up but he couldn't help it.

"Don't be. But I sure would like to know what goes on in that shaggy head of yours."

Gage tapped his own head. "Roy, runnin' into a full alarm fire would be easier to navigate than me inviting y-you in-in here."

"Well you know what they say, fools rush in, right?"

Gage couldn't move but he didn't care. He was warm and comfortable and barely felt Brackett probing around his new stitches from his chest tube removal. For once he didn't care that his naked torso was exposed. The muscle relaxants also caused drowsiness and loss of inhibitions and there was no time like the present to get him to talk.

Gage took a deep breath and for a minute it looked as if he was going to drift off to sleep but then he inhaled and words came tumbling out so fast that Roy had to lean forward to catch them all. Roy placed a hand on John's chest as he smoothed the blankets and Kel was going to leave until his name came up and he decided to sit quietly in the background to hear John.

"Wh-when my mom died, my step father was real n-nice to me in front, in front of the elders. He promised to let me st-study my language like I'd been doing all along. He threw my-my books out soon enough and my horse …" John's voice hitched. "My horse he s-sold."

Dr. Brackett leaned forward, needing to show John that he was listening and cared.

"He t-told me she went-she went to the glue factory."

Was it possible to kill a corpse because right now, Brackett was ready with the paddles in his mind to bring this bastard back and kill him again.

"There was a gun, on the man-mantle. It was my real dad's. He used to shoot it up in the air to d-drive wild animals away from the live-livestock. I took it down. I wanted … wanted to kill him."

There was a lot of that going around.

"I wouldn't-wouldn't have done it. It wasn't even loaded. I threw out the bullets or I'd have been dead long b-before that."

Roy couldn't bring himself to ask what John meant by that. Would his stepfather have shot him or … _No_ Roy told himself. He wanted to live or he wouldn't have come so far.

Gage's head fell forward onto his chest for a minute, eyes closed but he didn't want to go back there, to that room all those years ago. He fought the sleep that threatened to take him back.

Roy knew his partner was exhausted but he prodded him on.

"I know you wouldn't have, John, it's not you."

Gage gave him one of his lopsided grins that had melted the hearts of many young nurses over the years. "Ye-yeah, I'm a-a lover, not a fighter."

Roy allowed a small chuckle out. He couldn't help it. In a room where you where you were grasping at straws you stayed at the fountain as long as you could and drank what you could and this glimpse of the cocky young man he'd come to know and love was needed more than he cared to admit.

"Okay, Casanova," Brackett nudged gently.

"Everyone's a-a critic," Gage mumbled.

Roy knew Gage was as high as a kite on the medications and he felt like he was taking advantage but there was the greater good to think about and ethics sometimes needed to be put aside.

"Who hit you, Johnny?" Roy asked bluntly.

"My stepfa-father, Roy," John replied as his eyes slid closed.

Just as they feared they'd lost him to sleep he spoke again.

"But I go-got away."

Talk about an abridged version! Roy couldn't leave it like this. He had to help Gage talk about this no matter how painful it was.

"Why'd he do it?"

John's eyes showed his incredulity and for awhile his stuttering halted and his mind switched gears so fast it was almost possible to watch the thought process change like a record as it dropped from the pile to rest under the needle from the stack above it.

"Why'd he do it? And why-why do people wanna know? Why're they…" Gage's hand came up to rest over his chest tube scar in a helpless gesture that let them know he was aware of what had happened to him in the ICU.

"I don' know. I dunno. That little boy we brought in a couple of months ago who was battered … I asked him the same question. He didn't know. He told me before he passed out. Hey, his dad, he went to jail, did you know that?"

"Yeah, Junior, you told me, remember?"

"Nah, it's all fuzzy. Roy, why c-can't I remember?"

"It's just the pain meds, take it easy, partner, it'll come to you. Just take your time."

"My old man never did time."

"I didn't know that, Johnny."

"Hey, Roy? Thanks for not askin'"

"About what?" Roy persisted feeling low for dragging stuff out that John never wanted anyone to know.

"You know, my back and stuff. Look at this." John's words were slurred and Roy was sure he'd never do this without the meds.

John managed to drag the covers up over his toes. Roy had done reflex tests on his partner's feet many times in the past but in this light and being instructed to scrutinize he could now make out tiny scars where the fingerprints were smooth and shiny across John's toes.

A cigarette. A cigarette had done that.

Roy wanted to vomit. No wonder John never wanted to talk about it.

Roy's fist doubled. His mind was racing with every conceivable horror the kid in the bed had suffered. He couldn't speak. He covered Johnny's feet back up gently and patted his leg before exiting the room.

John's face dropped a mile when Roy left.

"You s-see, Doc? I told you I-I couldn't tell anyone. He left…"

Tears streamed from John's eyes but exhaustion let them pool in the sockets as they closed.

Dr. Brackett shook his head and went to find Roy. He bumped into him by the door as he was going to re-enter.

In two minutes in the hall, Roy went through all the stages related to this news, the most prevalent being anger toward anyone who could hurt a child. Roy was a man of action but there was no one left alive to punch out, no one to send to jail, no instant gratification to satisfy his need to avenge the broken young man in the bed. He was trained to run in and put the fire out, to bandage wounds to save people. He was a minuteman but it was going to take a lifetime and a whole lot of soul bandages to staunch the wounds John had.

"Doc, you knew about this sooner than I did. Was Johnny … Did his step father … did he…"

Thank God Brackett didn't make Roy say those words. The ones that caught in his throat and made him gag.

"John was physically and emotionally abused, there is no doubt about that. He confessed those things to me when I asked about the scars as his doctor and a person who had the authority to report anything that might get in the way of his fitness for duty. He said the scars on his back are from a belt. His toes from a cigarette on more than one occasion …" Brackett had to pause as bile rose in his throat.

"I can only tell you what John _didn't_ tell me and he never said anything about other forms of physical abuse besides the beatings."

"But the way he flinches whenever anyone touches him unexpectedly …"

"Could be from the beatings."

"If he did anything else to John …"

"Never happened," came a sleepy, resigned voice from inside the room.

Roy nearly fell from his leaning position on the door as he hurried back inside.

"Never h-happened," John said again firmly, his jaw set and jutted out just a little.

"Then …"

John held his hand up. The drug's 'truth serum effect' was wearing off and leaving only the bone weariness in its place so the pain caused by being reckless with words was back full force.

"I r-ran away more then-then once, Roy…" Bitterness punctuated every word. "Why did you l-leave when I showed you my f-feet? You asked. I wouldn't-wouldn't have told you if I thought … If I thought you'd leave…"

"I'm sorry I left. I was just outside the door. Honest. I was coming back. God, Junior, I always knew something had happened to you but I guess it was easier not knowing. If you want the truth, I had to step out of the room because I was gonna cry or be sick … When I looked at your toes I thought of Chris and Jen. We always play that game, you know _this little piggy?"_

"And my little piggies got barbecued?"

"How can you joke at a time like this," Roy protested standing up suddenly.

"Because it's how I forget that at one time, when I-I first joined the department, I didn't care if the rest of me got barbecued too. If I don't think about-about my friends from my first two years of high school and some of the good stuff like track and field or the newspaper or my new friends from the department, he … it-it all comes back to get me."

Roy sat and pulled his chair closer and risked putting his hand on Johnny's shoulder needing the contact as much as he hoped his partner would put up with it. John's shoulder hunched at the touch but with a deep breath it settled back down.

"I had to have a moment too because I was afraid to hear you. If your stepfather did all this to you then…"

"I'm-m On-only gonna say this-say this once. Don-don't ask me ag-again. Deal?"

"Anything, Junior, just know it's okay, no matter what you tell me, it doesn't change anything. You're safe."

"Wasn-wasn't like he didn't try … I was just faster and he-he-he was drunk. I was sm-smart. I l-l-left home for a few days when I could-could see it comin'. Slept in the barn or if that was locked in some-someone's car. It was always safe to go back after th-that 'cause someone would-would be askin' after me and he'd have to have an excuse for wh-where I was. It would stop for a few mon-months then."

_Safe? Junior's definition of safe was being able to return to a home after sleeping in a car or barn to prevent being…_ Now Roy's hands gripped the sheet.

Roy was going to ask again. John knew he was.

"I said-said it never happened, Roy. Hell, I got nuthin' to lose by tellin' ya if it had, so why would I l-lie now?"

Roy saw the sincerity in his partner's eyes. He believed him. It hadn't happened. Sure, he'd promised Gage that nothing would have changed between them if he'd told him otherwise but the need to wrap his partner in bubble-wrap and take him home was already so strong Roy didn't know what he would do if he had to deal with that on top of everything else this accident had awakened.

"Roy?"

"Yeah," Roy answered fussing with the covers and looking anywhere but into his partner's expressive eyes.

"Can-can I go to sleep now, please? I-I'm so t-tired."

The thing that broke Roy's heart finally was that question. John actually thought he had to ask permission to go to sleep.

"Go to sleep, Johnny. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Kay."

"He's still going to have to speak to someone from the psych unit now or when he applies for his position back," Kel said resignedly.

"John won't talk to a shrink. He says the mountains are his poultices that suck away all the negative energy around him. Now I know why he runs away to them whenever he can when we're off. If mountains could talk…"

XXXX

The next day passed in a blur of short visits with the men of fifty one and their wives and some of the guys from 110, John's old station.

Roy cringed when Craig, the walking rulebook handed Gage a copy of said rulebook and a brand new paramedic training manual.

Gage seemed at a loss for words as he stared at the items in his hands.

"We know you'll be back and if they make you certify again you'll be ready. I'll even tutor you if you want."

"I-may've lost my m-marbles a bit but I know my job, Brice. M'not b-brain damaged, just the con-concussion kinda…"

"I assure you I am not addled in any way either, Gage but the manual's changed a lot since you certified and though you do your job very well, you and Desoto are hardly by- the-book kind of guys. It won't do on an exam for you to write, 'hit 'm again!' or other slang words like that. And you certainly can't draw on the weird silent communication you and Desoto seem to have. Besides, the female model for the chapter on resuscitation is a former Miss Texas and the photos are quite anatomically pleasing."

That got John's attention and the blush on his face showed his age clearly.

"I mean, yes, you're rather young but you must have been gifted to have succeeded so early in life. I'd hate to see the people of L.A. lose out on such a talented paramedic." Brice went on having no clue as the jaws dropped at his admission that he, the walking rulebook had less than pure thoughts about the resuscitation chapter and actually respected his fellow paramedics.

"R-Roy, quick, get Dr. Brackett," John said. "B-Brice needs a CAT scan of his head."

For Craig Brice to stand here with his sincere faith that Gage belonged in the department was a blessing for John. He'd never much cared for Brice but the guy was admittedly a good paramedic. And a man who completely missed the Chet-worthy zing Gage just got on him.

"I don't know-know what to say Br-Brice."

"Let's just say that maybe we have a lot more in common than I'd thought and leave it at that and if you speak of this again I'll deny it." Brice smiled but there was something Gage recognized in his eyes when he confided that he and Gage had something in common.

Brice cleared his throat and told Gage he'd brought him something else and soon a small basket of goodies appeared from his duffel.

"There's a new, exciting study out that says chocolate may actually be good for you, so my one vice may turn out to be a health food, but that doesn't surprise me, my body and mind are keenly attuned to what is right. And you can't afford to lose any weight if you're coming back to the station soon," he said popping one of John's chocolate treats into his own mouth as he told them he'd drop by again and left the room with a contented _mmmmm._

John stared after him. "Well how do you like that…"

Roy walked to the window to check if hell froze over yet.

XXXX

Mike Stoker had the day off and sat with John for the morning a few days before he was to be released. Johnny talked Roy into taking his kids to the beach. The summer was slowly going by and school would soon start and the beach would be a memory put to sleep by the chill of fall.

John had forgotten that today the dreaded Foley catheter was going to be removed. This was never pleasant and there was no way to make it so.

Stoker had the good grace to go get a cup of coffee when Dr. Early came in.

"Just shoot me now," Gage moaned.

Dr. Early did his best to put Gage at ease but the truth was that with what he'd learned from Brackett and Roy about John's past this wasn't easy on either of them. No one wanted to cause Gage more pain or humiliation. He talked to John and tried to make this as routine as possible as he lowered the sheets.

Gage turned his head to the side and squinted his eyes. It was over in seconds that felt like days and he was covered back up, all evidence of the invasive device disposed of.

Dr. Early tried to lighten the mood. "We're gonna try to get you up and around today, John."

John just glared at him. "If-if you wanted me _up and around,_ you should'a sent a pretty n-nurse with warm hands to do that."

"Now, John we wouldn't want your blood to flow to the wrong places, you're still a bit low as it is and you'd be embarrassed fainting from blood diversion and you know it."

Early didn't know if he should have furthered the humor John started but was rewarded with the crooked Gage grin. Even through the grin, John gripped the blankets tight around his body after the procedure.

XXXX

Stoker checked his watch and made his way back to John's room after twenty minutes. Dr. Early was gone. Gage just stared at the ceiling. Mike wordlessly handed him a cup of cafeteria coffee that felt good on his healing hands as he raised it to his mouth.

"Figured we'd better fill you up since you're losing those IV's today too," Mike informed him.

"How'd you find that out? They n-never even told me."

"I'm an engineer, it's my job to know what's going on with any and all hoses including IV's," joked Mike. "Seriously though, I met up with Early in the hallway."

John had to admit that he felt worlds better with the Foley catheter gone and though the IV's weren't necessarily painful they were cumbersome and stung when he moved.

The afternoon went by in a blur. A nurse came in to remove the IV's. Mike's stomach squirmed watching the long needles come out of his friend's arms and was glad when the tiny holes were bandaged up.

Gage slept for a couple of hours while Mike read. Mike looked up once in awhile to check on him noting how he looked more peaceful without all those wires snaking out from all over the place. The chest leads and blood oxygen monitors were gone as well. Things were looking up.

Gage was like a newborn colt on his legs as Stoker volunteered to help him take his first few steps with Dr. Brackett.

Dixie monitored the hallway on John's ward on her break to make sure there weren't any reporters about as John made his way halfway down the hallway before giving in to the exertion and telling his helpers in a defeated voice that he needed to go back. He was out of breath as he was helped back into the bed and gently covered back up.

"John, you did really well, you know that, right? You've been flat on your back for a week. You can't expect to get up and run marathons," Brackett said.

"Yeah, especially in that blue backless number," Chet Kelly said, entering with a sexy whistle.

Gage blushed but smiled at the same time as a nurse came in ushering them all out. Having heard Chet's remark she winked at John.

"Excuse us, Mr. Gage needs his sponge bath now." She lightly elbowed Chet.

"Hi, I'm Clary. This'll just take a few minutes and then your friends can come back in. If they behave themselves," the young nurse said.

"Come on Kelly, I'll buy you lunch," Stoker said shaking his head.

"I'd rather have what he's having," Chet complained as he was led from the room. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Johnny."

"That doesn't l-leave much, Chet," Johnny growled good-naturedly. Chet told him he'd be back once the bath was over and he'd want details.

"S-sorry about that," Gage said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, if I had a dime for every time someone asked for rum in their IV or an extra sponge bath I'd be rich."

"Ah …. Um. Do you th-think I could just shower?"

Now that the guys were gone, John didn't have time to slide his false bravado on. He usually endured sponge baths and uncomfortable procedures with nurses by lying and telling them that the scars they may come across were from fighting fires and saving people and though some of them indeed were from that, others he bore from abuse.

"Dr. Brackett's orders, sorry," the nurse said. Noticing that John's face was beet red she tried to sooth him.

"Just be glad you didn't get Gertrude, I heard she uses pumice stone in her sponge baths," she teased but thinking back to his experiences in the hospital John figured she might not be lying. "Besides I'm the only one on shift that you haven't dated."

Gage was very glad the heart monitors were gone. The last cheerfully delivered zing was all it took for him to be quiet and let her work.

"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Clary asked when she was finished and he had a clean gown on.

How to answer such a loaded question…

"Well, you're n-not Gertrude."

"Gee, thanks, you're all heart," Clary laughed. She moved to his shoulders where she prepared a basin to wash his hair in. John tried not to sigh in deep contentment while she worked lather into his hair. When she finished washing his hair he felt like a new man. She drew the comb through his dark locks and giggled when she held up the mirror for him when he grimaced in distaste.

"N-not much for the disco look," he informed her.

"Oh? I heard you were a good dancer," she replied while combing his hair differently.

Gage's mouth gaped open when the ward matron entered with a clipboard. The older woman took note of Gage's clean dressings, the linens in the proper laundry hamper and asked Johnny if Clary, Ms. Shaw that is, was professional.

Clary looked at Gage hopefully and Gage figured out that she must be a student nurse on final exams.

"She was grrreat," John said almost too dreamily sounding like Tony The Tiger. "I-I mean, I-I'm clean…"

"Yes, I can see that," the matron said, looking him over head to toe as if she could see through the blankets. Gage shivered at that thought; an old bat with Superman vision. Creepy. And that's when Gage recognized her. His old nurse who'd tormented him and given him a sponge bath when a car hit him!

"You did well, Ms. Clary, you've passed this phase of your exam and I've given you extra points, this one can be difficult," she said, nodding toward Gage.

John was about to rant and it felt good to even have the strength to have a rant brewing somewhere deep inside him. He'd been empty and lost for so long. When he looked over at Clary chewing her bottom lip to stifle a giggle the rant melted into something else and he didn't even notice the old bat take flight and they were alone again.

"Thank you Mr. Gage," Clary said, gathering up her supplies and heading toward the door.

"No, thank _you,_" Chet said inappropriately as he carried Gage's supper into the room for the second time today.

"Chet…" Gage started but had no idea what to say next.

"Hey, before you start browbeating me you should check what's in that bag at the end of your bed once you're done all of your beef Wellington from Mrs. Stanley."

Gage reached for the bag, wincing as he sat up.

"No you don't, you have to eat first, Cap's orders."

Gage made a good dent in his beef Wellington and Stoker marvelled at the many ways Chet annoyed his pigeon. Chet kept reaching and snagging noodles off of Gage's plate causing John to eat most of his food out of spite. It was a weird system to get Gage to eat but Chet definitely had the right idea.

"Milk too, Johnny boy, you're a growing…" Stoker trailed off.

"Menace to society," Chet finished, saving the day. His blunt jokes were exactly what was needed right now. He handed John the small bag at his feet. Inside was a double chocolate brownie with walnuts on top.

John picked up the milk and drank it wondering if this is what life back at the station and around the guys would be like from now on. Sure, they'd always protected him but now that they knew the truth could they trust him or would they smother him? If he got back to the station at all; and with that sobering thought, Johnny drank his milk and enjoyed being the little brother knowing it probably wouldn't last. He knew the department was probably really close to cutting him loose.


	10. Chapter 10

John talked Roy into going home at about midnight. If he had a calendar in front of him he'd have been marking off the days like he used to when he was planning his escape from his so called home. He turned on the late movie settling in to watch wishing he had some popcorn. He was finally starting to feel better, at least physically. Roy had convinced him to try to let go of the anticipation about his tribunal and possible punishments.

The Western movie shootout was thrilling and afterwards John Wayne swaggered like a bowlegged peacock across the screen with his horse. The horse looked familiar…

_Oh my God, my horse, Strayboy, how could I forget him!_

John berated himself. Yes, the doctors told him his memories would come back in floods and trickles but to forget a friend…

He turned the television set off with an exaggerated click of the remote tossing it on the bed beside him. Forgetting Strayboy was another blow he didn't need. He calmed himself a bit. The stable fees were paid up until the end of the month. Another worry hit. Horses were expensive to keep. If he had to pay a lawyer and his wages were already frozen, he faced the threat of having to sell Strayboy if he didn't get to keep his job.

Having to stay in an apartment, as unappealing as that would be, would be nothing compared to losing Strayboy. The ranch, he figured had been a pipedream. Not meant to happen. His fingers strayed to the phone as he looked at the clock. Roy would only have been home for an hour, it was nearly the middle of the night.

Time to grow up, Gage, he told himself as he forced himself to lay back down. The warning to himself didn't stop the tears from falling. _Damned concussion!_ John was sick of the headaches, the forgetfulness and the fear. _If I'd managed a full- on case of amnesia I wouldn't have to think of what I lost because I wouldn't know I'd ever had it._ Okay, that made no sense even to him. Add confusion to the list of things that were really getting to him. And the assurances of, _it's perfectly normal?_ Nah, not helping.

Thinking of Strayboy made Gage remember his horse from his past, the one his stepfather sold. John purposely picked the sickly and bedraggled Strayboy from the stockyard figuring he'd save a life for the one that had been lost. He tended to his neglected hooves that caused him to be cranky and his open wounds from neglect. The only history he got from the apathetic stockyard worker was that the horse had no name and was found wandering the roadways abandoned and was headed for the slaughterhouse if no one took him.

"I shouldn't have promised you I'd give you a better home Strayboy."

XXXX

She listened at the door to her patient's breathing. He was quiet. Too quiet. She crept around the corner to see the shaking shoulders and the soft gasps that were clearly being stifled only by sheer will.

The Ward Matron entered the room fully intending on doing her job. Being a former military nurse she was well used to full-grown men crying. She'd hardened herself. She had a job to do and too many patients to become attached or to care about. She took the young man's wrist, wrote in her chart. She placed her hand on his stomach, noted his respirations, she pulled the empty syringe from her starched white pocket … and put it back in there.

_Oh hell, I'm not even supposed to work the night shift with my position and seniority, she fussed. When did I start believing student nurses deserved the night off when they graduated?_

"Do I need to ask the on call doctor for sedation for you, Mr. Gage?" she snapped. I need to get a blood sample from you and I can't do that if you're wound up so tight I can't get the blood to flow."

Her only answer was the appearance of an arm with a rolled up sleeve that snaked out from under the blankets. This would not do. She liked the fight. She liked the determination her patients seemed to develop to get well and leave her presence. She did not like the way the boy in the bed seemed to be giving up with every obstacle presented.

Huffing she checked her watch. Two minutes until break time. She could take that arm, draw that blood, turn on her heels and leave. That was all that was required of her. Tapping her foot she fingered the syringe. There was no more gasps of anguish but the silence was worse for some reason. Where was the challenge of '_you demented vampire!' _when she came for blood or _'old pervert!'_ when she came to bathe him?

She sat down in the chair next to the bed. Yep, it was time to retire but be damned if she missed her break. Spying a wheelchair in the corner she gruffly ordered John to sit up and assisted him in doing so. He stared at her wide-eyed.

John honestly considered that the old Ward Matron had finally gone nuts and was taking her unruly patient to the incinerator or something equally as vile. He didn't even ask where they were going as she helped him sit gently into the chair and propped his legs up on the rests covering him with a yellow blanket from his bed. She wheeled him down the hall past the floor desk and if anyone at the desk thought anything was amiss they never dared question the old Matron.

The elevator dinged and they rode down several floors with Gage finally coming out of his absolute apathy and trying to figure out where the morgue was in case the old gal finally lost her mind and was trying to kill him. They passed the main cafeteria, which was closed and ended up at the small café. Gage was unceremoniously parked without explanation at a small table. The harsher lights here caused John to blink owlishly. Sure he was tired but sleepy and tired were two different things.

In a few minutes a hot chocolate and two cookies were placed in front of him. The Matron had black coffee.

Gage had yet to say a word.

"Drink. Eat. It'll help you sleep. I don't need you awake at all hours. I have paperwork to do, other patients to handle and nurses to yell at."

John ducked his head. "Th-thank you."

The silence was almost companionable. It seemed as if both parties would prefer it until…

"So, you want to tell me why you aren't going to sleep, which you as a paramedic should know you need?"

The scold mixed with the resigned if not kind tone confused John and his past dealings with this dragon had him wondering if he should answer. He figured he had nothing to lose by answering. She was an outsider in his life so maybe she would answer him honestly without trying to protect him from what he faced when he left Rampart. Oh heck, what was he thinking, she'd rip him a new one for whining.

He tried to be matter-of-fact when he answered but this was John Gage she was speaking to for Pete's sake. Not gonna happen.

She sat and listened to him spill his guts through two cups of hot chocolate and two more cookies, admonishing him for spewing crumbs until he stopped speaking with his mouth full. Actually, Gage found that helpful, as he was able to gather his thoughts during chews. Still, there was so much to tell for such a short life.

Her break had been over for fifteen minutes but if she wasn't allowed a personal moment after forty years of nursing then she figured they could take this job and well, you know…

Gage went through all the possible consequences, real or imagined that could come from his transgressions. He lamented causing so much trouble. He finally ended on the note she had been waiting for all break.

"But I-never meant for anyone to get hu-hurt from all of this. I did m-my job. I really did. I saved a-a lot of people. I don't wanna be let go…"

_Ah, from worrying, to fear, to defending himself, good!_ She delighted. And all this without her having to say a word other than the initial prompt. Boy, this caring stuff was exhausting.

Her patient fell asleep in the elevator. The loud ding didn't wake him. She called two orderlies to help him into bed but while waiting in his darkened room the distinct flashes of a camera shutter flicked across John's face, rousing him to full, startled awareness. Nobody messed with her patients except for her. Nobody did monkey business in her hospital.

"Wh-what's going on?" John rasped, his neck stiff from lolling in front of him.

As the orderlies entered the room, one of them stuck something into his white coat.

"Turn out your pockets," The Matron demanded.

When he failed to do as he was told the Matron reached for his pocket pulling out a camera.

"How dare you!" she roared.

The other orderly was either not in on the scheme or trying to frame his partner as he denied any wrongdoing.

"You'll be fired for this," the Matron stated.

"From the money I get from this," he tapped the camera, "I'll make more money than I can here in a year."

"And you can spend it on canteen in jail," she scolded.

John watched the exchange. There was no confusing that this man was a hospital employee, not like the people hired by KMPG to pose as them. He wasn't safe here. He'd never be safe here.

The burly man turned to leave, grabbing the camera and pushing the Matron to the floor. The other orderly bent to help her up and stood between the patient and the fleeing man.

The Matron was bit stunned and the orderly lowered her to sit on John's bed. He was so frazzled he failed to just use the call button for security and walked to the nurses desk.

John reached out tentatively and took the Matron's pulse. A bit fast but good considering what had just happened.

The room filled with people.

"It's not my fault, I didn't know he had a camera!" the other orderly insisted.

"Did they take anything besides a picture?"

Now John understood why some cultures feared being photographed. _Anything besides a picture? Yeah, my soul._

"Are you hurt?"

Questions blurted from every corner. Someone sat on the remote control and yet another John Wayne western filled the room with eerie blue light reminding him of the camera flash.

Couldn't they see he was tired?

Couldn't they see he was hurting?

Couldn't they see he was about to bolt?

Gage needed quiet to think. The effects of the concussion always grew worse with noise and confusion. He tried to shut it all out.

The Matron was asked to go to Emergency to be checked out and not wanting to set a bad example for a patient she knew always hid pain, she consented, instructing the other nurses to put John to bed and not to dilly dally and she even told the security officers how she thought they should proceed. No one argued. When she was wheeled out in a wheelchair, Gage was momentarily alone.

He stood on shaking limbs, yawning but his body still wanting to fight. How could he sleep now? He checked the hall, slowly creeping out the door. He spied the stairwell. Many were the times he went there to think when he was a patient here. And he'd never been caught. Besides, he'd only be a minute, right?

He slid down the wall in the stairwell. It was draughty but he couldn't spare the energy to go get a blanket. Besides, maybe there was another employee ready to snap a picture of the child paramedic and his blanky. He didn't have the energy for anger and that scared him.

He was so very tired. Maybe if he closed his eyes here for just a minute he'd rest and relax enough so when he went back to his room he'd fall asleep. At least that was the plan but the best laid plans of mice and men, er, boys…

XXXX

"What do you mean you lost him!"

Roy was usually a quiet man. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the head of security explain that they couldn't find Gage.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Roy snapped slamming the phone down.

Roy arrived in the Emergency department just as the Matron was cleared for duty. She took the elevator with him back to John's room.

The nurses on duty blanched in fear and scurried off to do their rounds after a severe berating as security officers combed closets and patient rooms one by one.

The Matron headed straight for the stairwell. She ordered Roy to follow her. She pushed the door open with her butt, grabbing a wheelchair from the hall at the same time with practiced efficiency.

There shivering against the wall was John, asleep.

"How did you know…" Roy gaped, bending down to check on his partner.

"Johnny?"

Roy kept his voice soft knowing John startled with loud, demanding tones.

Blood shot eyes opened.

The Matron and Roy helped John into the wheelchair and wrapped a blanket around his body to his neck and wheeled him to his room. They dismissed the security officer's or orderlies offers to help. The nurse pressed the call button and when the desk nurse answered she told her to page Dr. Early whom she'd seen downstairs.

"S-sorry. I just needed to get-get away for a minute."

Roy wanted to scream. John had been missing for an hour.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Junior. Promise me you won't do that again?"

John nodded in a dejected sort of way. When Roy heard the whole story of the real orderly taking a picture of John and the rest of the ugly mess, he could understand why John had fled, which led to another subject.

"How did you know where to find him?" He turned to the Matron.

"It's my business to know where all my charges are at all times, Steve Stunning."

And how. Roy remembered how many times she came to peel John out of his room when he and Marco were hospitalized.

John stared at her as if trying to analyse the crusty old bat.

"W-wait a minute. I went to the stairwell bef-before on your shift back then…"

"And I knew you were there I assure you but I figured if I needed you I'd be able to find you."

That didn't begin to explain it and she knew it. She blushed a bit, something that until tonight Gage would bet his _almost_ ranch on. She did have a heart somewhere deep down inside that over-starched dress, behind that ancient watch on her lapel that had watched more heartbeats start and stop than anyone could imagine.

A heating pad was placed under John's lumbar and Roy was astounded when she let him chart his partner's vitals, needing to see for himself that he was for the most part, okay.

"Well, Mr. Gage. I do have other patients to attend to and some nurses to browbeat so if you'll excuse me?"

It really wasn't a question.

"W-wait. Please. Are you okay?"

She couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked her that. How to answer…

"Fit for duty," was all she said before turning on her white shoed heels and stopping one last time to toss Roy the empty syringe and John a roll of cellulose film.

"You got the film!"

"I can't allow my patient's privacy to be compromised.

"You're like … a female James Bond!" John said, clearly impressed.

"I told you you'd learn to love me." And with that she was gone.

XXXX

Dr. Early found no additional injury from John's … what he lovingly referred to as a getaway.

John was clearly ashamed of making everyone worry again. He only meant to be gone for a few minutes.

When Dr. Early was finished rebinding John's collarbones and left, Roy sat down next to his partner.

John wanted to tell him that it was okay if he went home. But it wasn't.

"Roy? I wanna go h-home."

"Yeah, Johnny, in a few days you're going home with me," Roy said softly, noting John's drooping eyelids.

"No … you don't-don't understand. I wanna go home now."

Roy wanted to argue with his partner. He really did but the fact was, John wasn't safe here. For now it was a picture but two people had already been hurt in the skirmishes that followed and if real hospital employees were in on the paparazzi craze, how could he be protected from that?

"I know you do, Johnny," Roy sighed.

"Help me?"

John had never asked for help before. Through all of his helping Roy out with his honey-do lists and everything he couldn't remember John ever asking for anything.

"If you're asking me to break you out of here, the answer is no. But and I do mean but, if I can convince Brackett to release you to come home with me, I'll do it. I'll take you home early.

John drifted as Roy made a mental list of things he'd need for John at home. He didn't plan on taking no for an answer unless Brackett could give one good reason for John not to go home with a trained paramedic. The fact was, John was right, he wasn't safe at Rampart.

As if he could read Roy's thoughts, John murmured, "Thanks Roy…"

"Go to sleep, Junior," Roy chuckled, letting a bit of the tension leech from his shoulders as he took up residency for the night in the chair.

"Kay." John's eyes closed and he was quiet for a few minutes.

"Roy, I have a horse…"

"Go to sleep, Johnny. Tell me about it in the morning."

_Kid dreamed the damndest things,_ Roy mused.

XXXX

"I don't like it, Roy," Brackett stated firmly. "Johnny belongs in a hospital where he can be monitored."

"But you said it yourself, these intrusions and attacks aren't going to be good for him and you know if we transfer him to another hospital it won't be good for him."

Johnny watched the conversation like a tennis match. Feeling every bit as young as his twenty-one years or less. The ward matron was walking down the hall when she stopped and stood in the doorway of his room unnoticed by Brackett or Roy. She had her coat on and was clearly off shift. Her head followed back and forth between the two men before she looked back at John and simply nodded as if a gesture said a thousand words.

"John needs round the clock care, Roy."

"I'm a paramedic Dr. Brackett."

"Guys? I-I'm right here."

Dr. Brackett didn't look finished but when Roy's undivided attention went to his partner he closed his mouth. John never knew until that moment how much he appreciated the way Roy listened to him. Sure, there were times when he was rambling that Roy ducked around the squad to get away or flicked his newspaper loudly to indicate that he was trying for some quiet time alone but when it was important, something that really mattered, Roy had always been there. That gave Gage the courage to go on.

"I want-want to go home, Dr. Brackett." Gage tried really hard to look the doc in the eye. He respected the man who had kept his secret, who had done so much for him but he knew if he was made to stay here any longer he was going to lose whatever pieces of himself he'd been able to find over the last couple days.

"But, Johnny, it's only going to be three more days…"

"Th-three more days when I can't sleep, not knowing who-who's gonna come in here and fillet me and serve me up to a news-newspaper somewhere. And old Nurse Ratchett getting hurt last night, doc, that was the-the last straw."

Just out of sight of Johnny and the other men in the room, old 'Nurse Ratchett' smiled. Johnny kept her secret. Sometime between the war and now she'd taken the yellow brick road and found a heart. But don't ever tell anyone that. Ever.

"Nurse Ratchett will be just …" Dr. Brackett trailed off looking horrified. He was so frustrated and worried about his young patient that he was actually starting to talk like him. "The ward matron is a tough lady. She can handle the orderlies."

Roy tried to stifle his laughter but it was so needed right now. Dr. Brackett calling one of the nurses Nurse Ratchett was just too funny coming from the normally very professional and together doctor.

Brackett shared a laugh in spite of himself before turning serious again.

"I have three conditions to your release."

When John sat up straighter, wincing with the sudden movement Brackett held up his hand for silence knowing that asking for silence from Gage when he can talk is liking asking for the wind to stop blowing. Brackett knew there was nothing he could say to stop the young man leaving when John complied with his request.

"First, Someone checks on you hourly through the day and night at least for the next three days, longer if complications set in. Second, complete bed rest other than bathroom and short walks in the house every two to three hours during the day to keep up your circulation and improve your strength. Third, you must eat, three meals a day plus snacks in order to gain some weight back. You're down eight pounds. Four, you will be seen by Dr. Early or myself once daily for the next three days after which you will report to Rampart every two days for at least another week until we're satisfied your healing is going well."

"Doc?" Johnny smiled. "My brain is getting better. You-you said th-three conditions. You gave f-four. See? I can-can do math."

Brackett ruffled Johnny's hair. He couldn't help it. He'd resisted it in the past because John's secret was so closely guarded but the darn kid just burrowed into the heart and stuck like plaque … okay maybe not plaque, but … oh heck, Brackett liked the kid, so sue him.

"You'll have to sign AMA papers. And get those puppy dog eyes Dixie's always talking about ready because she's gonna be mad."

Even Roy cringed at that.

"Yeah, hadn't thought about that …"

"Sure you still wanna go through with it?"

John became serious again. "I have no choice, Doc."

While Dr. Brackett went to get the papers, Roy helped John into a loose fitting pair of sweatpants and helped him thread his arms through a cotton button down shirt before putting the collarbone braces on.

John signed on the dotted line with a little difficulty and thought he and Roy would make it out of the exit without incurring the wrath of Ms. McCall. They were wrong. Roy turned John's wheelchair around to face the music.

"Well if it isn't Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," Dixie greeted, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Sorry, wrong people, Steve Stunning and John Doe here," Roy replied while Gage tried to aim his laser wounded/puppy dog eyes and trademark lop-sided smile at her.

"You I can understand wanting out of here. You've never liked hospitals, but you," she turned to Roy and pointed. "Aiding and abetting …" She tried for a hard look but just couldn't pull it off. They both looked so guilty and deep down she knew that John needed out.

"Just be good, huh, Johnny?"

"Oh he'll be good. Joanne runs a tight ship. Not to mention Jenny and Chris are still off school."

Dixie hugged Johnny and Roy wheeled him out to the waiting station wagon.

XXXX

Upstairs at Rampart, Johnny's old room was being made up for a new patient. His charts were removed and filed and the bedcovers changed and smoothed. A flashbulb went off and a satisfied cleaner sighed in contentment as he went to a payphone to call in his latest 'tip'.

XXXX

Roy walked at his partner's elbow carrying a duffel of clothing and prescriptions. The sun shone gently on Johnny's face highlighting the still vivid bruising and dark circles under his eyes. Joanne met them at the door putting her arm around Johnny's back and gently embracing him as he took the two steps up into the house gingerly.

"Uncle Johnny!" Chris ran at John like he was going to football-tackle his uncle stopping at the last minute as if unsure where he could touch, settling for a hearty handshake.

Jenny ran down the hall already in full nurse mode.

"Uncle Johnny, mommy and I made up your room." She took John's hand and led him down the hallway to 'his' room.

Joanne nodded apologetically as John's eyes found the mound of pink pillows on the bed.

"The Barbie pillows are my favourite, Uncle Johnny but Nurse Dixie told us to make sure you sit up a good part of the day to prevent new-money-ia. The Barbie ones are nice and big and fluffy and cheerful."

"Thanks, Jelly Bean," Johnny said, sounding slightly overwhelmed.

"The word you were looking for is pneumonia, Jennifer and Nurse McCall didn't want Uncle Johnny to know she called, remember?" Joanne winked. "Well now the cat's out of the bag, Nurse McCall called to give us a list of things to do and watch for even though Dr. Brackett called ten minutes before that."

In some circumstances this would have left Roy annoyed. He was after all, a qualified paramedic, but he knew how hard it was for Dr. Brackett to even agree to release Johnny so he took it for what it was and appreciated it.

John was tired and sore from the ride home. His collarbones felt like they were going to burst through the skin from the seatbelt rubbing against them on the way home. Roy helped him into bed and Jenny fussed with the blankets completely in her element. Chris brought in a glass of water. Even through the pain John smiled tiredly and accepted his meds from Roy. Roy took a set of vitals as he'd promised to call Rampart once John was settled.

_Meeeow! Thud_. A very enthusiastic one-eared, tailess cat was already purring and nuzzling under John's chin.

"Blister? Oh my God, girl, I missed you."

Blister proceeded to inspect her friend. She sniffed at his cast, gave it a tentative lick and then head-butted him with affection. She twirled around three times kneading the pillow beside his slightly raised torso and slipped herself into the space left between the brace and his arm.

Purring filled the room with comfort that John had missed dearly. She'd been there after every bad shift, after each doubt, after everything that went bump in the night, waking him when he needed to get up for work.

"We'll let you catch a nap, Johnny. I'll wake you for lunch," Roy said, taking Jennifer's hand and leading the reluctant little nurse from the room followed by Joanne and Chris. Before closing the door he was once again struck by how young John looked. Blister looked up at Roy as if to say 'don't worry.' Roy knew he was leaving his partner in good um,_ paws._


	11. Chapter 11

Roy and Joanne were tired. They took turns through the night checking on Johnny. Roy instructed Joanne what to watch out for and to wake him if any of those things seemed abnormal but John did well through the night other than running a slight fever for which he was already on antibiotics.

It was six o'clock in the morning when Roy stumbled onto the front porch for the morning newspaper and the milkman's delivery. He stuck it under his arm and proceeded to the kitchen to make coffee and prepare John's meds.

The house filled with the smells of breakfast and Joanne felt spoiled once again as breakfast was prepared when she got up. She couldn't resist peaking in on her sleeping houseguest and her kids before making her way to the kitchen.

Cherishing the quiet time Joanne kissed Roy and set the table. Roy sat down and flipped the paper open.

_What. The. Hell._

If his partner wasn't in the other room sleeping right now, Roy would have panicked for an entirely different reason upon reading the headline:

_John Gage dead. Hospital not disclosing details pending autopsy._

Desoto recognized John's private room at Rampart from the photo of the made up bed, the empty hook where the chart usually hung and the lack of patient. He groaned before thrusting the newspaper into Joanne's hands without a word. What could he possibly say to that?

"Seems we have a ghost in our house, Roy," Joanne smiled.

Roy just looked at her. How could she smile at a time like this?

"If nothing else they've done so far will discredit KMPG and this … rag of a newspaper, nothing will," she explained, walking over to the phone to cancel their subscription.

Joanne's calm seeped into Roy and he was grateful.

"Well, at least we know we did the right thing getting Johnny out of Rampart early," he mused, running his hands through his hair.

XXXX

A very ticked off Braydon Masters, head of security at Rampart gripped the lapels of a frightened night cleaner, the early edition newspaper crumpled on his desk.

"Clean out your locker. You'll be escorted out of Rampart and turned over to the police. You are hereby barred from Rampart General and the next time I see you, you'd better be a patient because believe me when I tell you, I will make you one." The six foot four Masters towered over the man.

Other security members arrived to escort the fired cleaner from the premises. Masters sat down heavily in his office chair. He felt like a failure. Three times under his watch, these weasels had breached patient confidentiality. Sure, most of them had been caught but only after the fact. Masters stared at the headline of the newspaper suddenly very tired.

The fallout was yet to come. For everyone.

XXXX

The Desoto's phone started ringing at six o'clock. So much for a quiet breakfast.

"Oh, my no, Mama Lopez, Johnny's with us. He's not dead. He's okay. The newspaper lied. I promise. Yes, you can come see him for yourself; I know this is quite a shock. We'll be expecting you."

Joanne hung up the phone.

"Marco's mom was heartbroken and beside herself, Roy. She's on her way over with some more breakfast fixings."

The phone rang again.

"Sorry Stoker, Oh my God, I forgot to tell Cap to phone everyone. John's here. We had some trouble last night at Rampart and John was ready to bolt. He couldn't take it anymore so we brought him home … here. He's gonna be alright." Eventually.

"Yeah, why don't you and Beth come on over and we'll make breakfast? I'm gonna call everyone now. Damn, this is a nightmare."

"It's just when I saw John's empty bed in the picture …" Stoker gulped audibly over the receiver.

"I know, Mike. He's in my guestroom and I still had go look at him to get a grip on myself."

Within an hour the men of fifty-one and their families filled the Desoto's living room. The hushed tones and opening and closing of doors woke John up to a world of confusion. His head ached and his eyes stung from the rising sun through the window. Waking in too many different places over the last week played havoc on his already stretched senses. He tried to focus. Maybe the voices from the other room would tell him where he was this morning.

"I couldn't believe they did that. Johnny dead. Of all the nerve," Beth Stoker's voice floated to John's room. "I thought Mike was gonna have a heart attack."

The post concussion syndrome still messed with John, especially when he awoke groggy. He stared at his own hands. _Solid. _He looked down at his body, wiggled his toes, said the alphabet, could remember his mother's maiden name and the date …_ So not a bodiless spirit then? No? Well, it'd be just my luck to die and not move on, _he thought bitterly. He listened some more to the other room's occupants.

"Chet? You okay, man?"

"I will be," Chet replied, so unlike the bubbly annoyance he'd always been to John.

That more than anything else scared the young paramedic as he took in the flowered curtain. Roy's place?

"Well, John's in a better place now, Mama," Marco was heard comforting his very religious mother.

"Ci, Marco. He will be watched over well up there."

Of course John couldn't see Mama Lopez point up the three steps to the split-level hallway that lead to the guest room. Ice filled his veins.

John held his breath.

_Why am I holding my breath? Do I have any breath? Am I really dead? Why am I here if I'm dead?_

"Well, we're all going to have to make some arrangements to deal with this," said Cap solemnly.

"Yeah, this whole death thing really throws a cog into the wheel but it could actually be a blessing in disguise," came Chet's suddenly bright voice.

That about killed Gage, well, you know if not the whole he-was-dead-already thing and all. He knew the Phantom was always out to get him but he thought Chet liked him deep down.

John got up on shaky legs and adjusted his sweatpants. Someone had taken his shirt off in the night but he was still too hot.

_Damn, no reprieve from pain for ghosts? Apparently not_. His collarbones throbbed. The surgical site on his shoulder by the base of his neck stung and his skin itched with heat. _So, hellfire for all my lies then?_

John blinked back tears. He stumbled to the doorway. Even though the words from the other room hurt like a thousand knives in his gut he wanted to at least see his friends one last time before the flames devoured him. He always knew he'd go to hell. He just figured an actual fire while on the job would take him there. Not this. This was stupid. Hell sure had a great imagination.

John leaned against the doorframe, just visible from the living room. Joanne nearly dropped her tray of coffee upon seeing him.

_So, I'm visible then?_ John mused.

"Johnny!" Joanne sounded like she'd seen a ghost … well, _him._

Roy hurried to his partner who was slowly sliding down the doorframe. He tried to lead him back to his bed but John pushed him off and stumbled down the hall toward the living room leaning heavily on the wall for support.

"Johnny, you need to lie down."

"I have a lifetime … um, afterlife time to lay down, Roy," John grouched tiredly.

Roy of course had no idea what John was talking about. He tried to lead the very confused man back to his room. His hand found the moisture of fever as he draped an arm around him.

"Juanito!" cried Mama Lopez, crossing herself.

John totally misinterpreted that.

"Please … I-I just want-wanted to see you all one l-last time," John moaned, his arms up in surrender to Mama Lopez, his half dream-like trance only aggravated by the strange behavior of everyone there.

Beth Stoker's eyes filled with tears upon seeing John like that, the bruises and scars that mottled his thin torso. No one knew John heard them and what his mind had done with their odd words.

"Ch-Chet. I'm dead? And it-it-it's a b-blessing?"

A horrified look crossed Chet's face as it dawned on him alone what must have happened. Chet looked to Roy to help but Roy was on the phone with Brackett asking for advice on what to do.

"John. You're not dead, man. And no, it wouldn't be a blessing. Look you're gonna have to sit down and let us explain what happened. It's a long story. But you're okay, buddy."

Chet approached the very wide-eyed John Gage like a zookeeper would approach an aggravated lion. John bristled at his touch feeling very self-conscious but having no choice but to be led to the couch. He looked only at his lap as a blanket was draped over his naked shoulders.

Roy let Chet take the lead, ready to shut the moustached antagonist down at the first signs of anything remotely resembling cruelty. Brackett could be heard loudly shouting in the phone demanding to know what was happening as all eyes were on Chet who held out the picture of the empty bed and the headline to Gage.

"The newspaper came out with this bullsh …" Joanne glared at the young moustached firefighter as Jenny plodded sleepily into the room and straight into Roy's free arm. "Um, the story this morning. They said you were dead, Gage."

John couldn't get his eyes to focus properly. The small print was a blur but the picture said it all.

"The n-news of my demise has-has been great exaggerated," John smiled sheepishly through fevered features.

Nervous, relief filled chuckles toned down the tension.

"Exactly and that's what you heard us talking about," Chet went on gently.

"Blessing, Chet?"

Everyone leaned forward expecting Chet to be in the hot seat but instead Chet smiled indulgently and went on.

"Exactly, a blessing. If even one other tabloid or radio station believes you're dead, they'll get off your case and let you rest in peace."

"Chet!" nearly everyone shouted.

"You know what I mean, not like R.I.P.! I meant … ah forget it."

"You've got a point, Chet," Roy praised glad he didn't have to punch Chet for insensitivity."

Finally answering the very frantic doctor on the phone Roy explained that John calmed down once he knew what was going on.

"Roy, I don't have to remind you that I wasn't in favor of Gage leaving in the first place. The post concussion syndrome alone is dangerous and leaves him open for all sorts of complications. I can't stress the importance of keeping him calm."

Roy sighed as Chet handed John a cup of coffee.

_Yeah, cause that'll calm him right down,_ thought Roy. Still, Gage was allowed a cup of coffee a day at the hospital so…

"I understand, Dr. Brackett. Yes, now would be a good time to come and check on him. Thanks."

Roy went to the kitchen to put on more coffee while everyone gathered and very gently hugged John and spoke quietly and slowly around him as if he was damaged. In truth he was tired and sore but it was sort of disconcerting the way everyone was watching him like he was made of spun glass. He drew the blanket tighter around himself praying no one had seen his back.

John made small talk with the guys feeling very foolish having thought that he was dead. If they thought he was acting strange they never said anything. Roy knew that Johnny would be overwhelmed having to take his medications in front of others. He was never one to show weakness and hated the looks of pity some of the well-meaning ladies were giving him.

Their years together paid off when Roy subtly signalled John that it was time for his meds. He asked Jenny to help Joanne in the kitchen. John excused himself to go to his room, politely declining Stoker's offer of help. Roy discreetly followed his partner, helping him sit on the edge of his bed and handing him a glass of water.

"Th-thanks, Roy. I owe you for this." Gage swallowed his meds.

Roy swiped a hand over Gage's brow, noting his flushed cheeks. Brackett would be here soon so Roy let it go. John had enough to think about.

"Pretty confusing huh?"

"You said it. For a minute there when Marco's mom said…"

"I know," Roy said, only realizing now what it all must have sounded like. No wonder Gage looked like he'd been run over by a semi when he appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"Wh-why's everyone here?"

"You know what you woke up thinking?"

"Ohhhh!"

XXXX

Dr. Brackett arrived and bee-lined for John's room.

John was going to fuss over what he figured was an overly thorough examination but he kept his mouth shut when he realized how worried Brackett was. Even those in the know about John leaving the hospital mostly under his own steam had been rattled by the death news. It just struck too close to home.

"M'Doc m'fine," John mumbled around the thermometer in his mouth.

"There are other ways to take that young man," Brackett grumbled.

Gage shut up.

"Ow!" his side was prodded.

"Brrrr!" the stethoscope was cold on his back.

He began to fidget.

"John, for the love of Pete let me get a set of vitals okay? Lie still for five minutes?" The tone was harsh but Brackett smiled despite himself.

John lay still, his cast hand clasped with his other and folded across his chest like a corpse and closed his eyes.

"Not funny Junior," Roy scolded, shivering slightly. It just looked too real with the pale cheeks with the artificial glow of pink like rouge from the fever and the dark lashes standing out vividly from closed eyes that hadn't seen enough rest.

But the truth was, it was all John had left. His sense of humor and if he lost that he might as well jump because there was nothing remotely funny in his future. Brackett just shook his head and used that opportunity to take the young man's pulse.

Roy helped John sit up again for some neuro checks. He'd been passing every neuro check so far but with post concussion syndrome it was prudent to make sure something new didn't pop up. His knee was tapped with the little hammer. A spontaneous kick to Brackett's leg; check. His eyes followed the little penlight. This always made the ever-present dull ache in his head spike.

"Hurts, huh?"

"No."

"Johnny?"

"Okay, a-a little. Al-always hurts a little when I follow the light …" With that, John laughed and Kell and Roy couldn't help a small chuckle too.

"Yeah, well, if you see any light, you just turn around and go the other way," Roy said, trying to sound like he was joking but failing.

John looked up; gagging slightly on the wooden tongue depressor Brackett placed in his mouth.

"Light's in my mouf now Woy, kinda hard not to," Gage muttered past the wooden intrusion finally saying ahhhhh at Brackett's growled instruction.

Brackett sighed, putting his things away. "Well, other than the low grade fever, you seem to be holding your own. I'm tired just from examining you and that's pretty standard so things must be looking up or I'm getting too old for this."

"Why don't you stay for breakfast, Doc? Marco brought extra eggs and Stoker brought some Canadian bacon. There's lots left."

"Don't mind if I do. I'd like to see John here eat something too. I'm going to give him a shot of antibiotics first though."

"But I'm already on antibiotics! I don't need a shot …"

"This is a different antibiotic."

John was going to protest again. He knew it was ridiculous. He was a paramedic. He'd given and taken many shots and IV's before. Still didn't make it pleasant.

Sighing and grumbling he submitted to the shot.

"Yeah, nothing like a shot in the butt to make a man know he's still alive," he grumbled.

In a few minutes, the three men entered the living room, John supported lightly between them. The examination and the day's stressful beginning was taking its toll on his low reserves of energy.

His coffee went cold long ago and small hands pressed a glass of orange juice into his hands instead.

"Thanks, Jelly Bean," John sighed gratefully. Jenny hopped up on the couch beside him. It was overwhelming to see everyone from fifty-one here. For him. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and concentrated on his juice.

The men spoke of a fire they fought on their last shift and Johnny paid rapt attention. He missed his job so much it hurt. He managed to answer questions without stuttering much because he directed most of his answers to Jenny who simply smiled at him as he spoke. He ate while they talked and the distraction was good for him as his plate was nearly cleaned.

Before John knew it, he'd lost track of the conversation and he vaguely heard fond, 'tell him we'll visit again and Mama's making some mild tamales for him okay?' and 'I'll be sure to send some of my spaghetti next time I make it on shift.' He dreamed he answered them as he was covered in a blanket and his eyes closed fully.

One by one the guests left taking one last very relieved look at their youngest, very much alive crewmember.

XXXX

Chet had been wrong about the newspapers leaving John alone. It was a nice thought, but if anything, this morning's news leaked into every facet of his life. He woke a mere afternoon after his _untimely death_ to find, well … that for all intents and purposes he _was _legally dead.

A huge sticky mess of red tape a mile long could be traced to one man. John Gage. The bank took it upon themselves to freeze all of John's accounts. A fire headquarters secretary cancelled his health benefits. The Chaplain showed up to station fifty one by two thirty in the afternoon ready to give the other shift some counselling if needed only to be told that Captain Hank Stanley had informed their captain that Gage was alive. Flowers arrived by the hour at the Desoto home and the station. And all without a death certificate!

"Habeas Corpus! What happened to that eh?" Gage shouted. But a warning look from Roy made him calm. He didn't want to go back to Rampart. Roy made him sit while he looked for the phone book to start making a few calls.

"Now, what did you say? Habeaus what? What does that even mean, Junior?"

"Habeaus Corpus, _show me the body_, it's Latin" Gage fumed. I phoned headquarters to tell them I'm alive. The first secretary who answered the phone threatened to call the police for impersonation of a dead fireman. The second one screamed about ghosts and hung up. This is worse than dealing with that Gloria chick over my credit card!"

Not wanting to get into how Gage knew the Latin name for the law he just stuttered out, Roy set about trying to calm the very agitated man. Truth was he was mad too but that wouldn't help Johnny get better.

"This could only happen me, you know. I mean, sure, I-I-I lied. I get that. But I did-didn't kill anybody and some-somehow they've managed to hang me for it anyway."

Roy knew that look. He recognized it for what it was now. Defeat.

"I-I'm being erased, Roy."

A very frazzled Joanne accepted another batch of flowers at the door. Trying to give them back to the delivery person always ended up in frustration so she just started piling them on the kitchen table.

Roy thought of what John would do if the situation was reversed, admitting to himself that yes, this _could _only happen to John Gage. Still, what would John do?

"Well, look at it this way, Junior, how many people actually to get to sniff the flowers at their own wake?"

John smiled up through watery tears of frustration.

"How many are from cute nurses at Ram-Rampart?" he asked with sudden interest.

"Five and counting," Joanne rolled her eyes on her way back to the door.

"Well, alright," said John sounding a bit humored.

Roy handed John his lunch and ordered him to eat in order to take his meds.

"M'not hungry."

"I could always start an IV and tell Brackett you're not eating …"

The homemade soup and turkey sandwich disappeared quickly with the glass of milk.

John listened intently as Roy tried to make phone calls to correct the misinformation. It was an exercise in futility. The bank had him wanting to pull his hair out.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Desoto, you'll need to produce a Death Certificate and a correction from City Hall notarized by a doctor, a Minister and another witness who knows the deceased, fill out the appropriate forms in triplicate and we'll get back to you in four to six weeks."

"You accepted his death on the word of a rag newspaper!" screamed Roy into the phone.

"Would you like to speak to my supervisor, Mr. Desoto?"

"Yes, no, oh hell—forget it." And with that Roy hung up.

Fire Headquarters was a little more accommodating but only because Brackett himself had phoned when he learned of the cancellation of Gage's health benefits due to death.

"Well, for a corpse, I don't look so bad," John mused glumly pressing lightly on his temple where a bruise was starting to fade. His split lip was nearly healed and was now just a red line down the middle of his bottom lip.

Roy was about to agree with him. For a corpse, yeah, he looked pretty good but he was far away from his usual healthy glow. Roy was worried about the slightly hollow look in his partner's eyes.

XXXX

John woke from a nap that he suspected was artificially induced. He thought the milk at lunch tasted just a bit funny.

"Sleep well, Junior?" Roy asked, smiling upon walking into John's room to find him awake.

"Like the dead," John sighed.

Roy cringed and John let it go vowing to watch for a secret sedative from now on.

John pulled back a bit when Roy reached for his wrist. Roy mentally scolded himself. He forgot that for now, he needed to approach his partner slower, especially when he first woke up. With John's sense of humor it was sometimes easy to forget that his wounds went deeper than flesh alone.

"S-sorry, Roy," Johnny said, shifting so he could offer his arm up for a vitals check even though he hated every minute of being weak like this.

"It's okay. Really. I understand. It's you, not me," Roy smiled and John smiled back. Yep, humor was definitely the best way to deal with Johnny. At least some things never changed.

"You're not-not breaking up with me are you pally?" Johnny laughed.

"Ha ha, Johnny, now just hold still and let me get your respirations."

Roy placed his hand on John's chest and looked at his watch, noting how John flinched again and sucked his chest and stomach in really far as though to avoid any touch at all.

"Done," Roy said calmly, taking his hand away. He placed his stethoscope on John's chest next."

"C-cold!"

"Want me to blow on it next time like Dix does for you, you big baby?"

"Maybe."

The truth was the stethoscope wasn't terribly cold, it was just that John was very warm still.

Roy stuck the thermometer in John's mouth, clamping his hand onto John's chin before he could protest. He lowered John's shirt and helped him sit up. John closed his eyes in pain at the movement but was slightly better once sitting up.

"102, John," Roy said as he stared at the thin red line in the glass tube.

"That's nuthin'." John dismissed, hoping Roy would dismiss it too but Roy reached for the phone.

"Aw come on, Roy. Brackett's only gonna make me go back if you make a big deal of this."

Roy ignored him for his own good.

When Roy got off the phone he could tell John heard every word he'd spoken to Brackett.

"He wants an IV started. He doesn't want you to dehydrate with the fever and he wants you put on blood thinners. He's worried the trauma you suffered could cause blood clots as you heal. And he wants you on fever reducer. He doesn't want you up anymore today."

John was crushed. He thought he was doing better. He already felt like he was intruding on Roy's household and now Roy would have to drive to the hospital to get supplies.

"I'll go back …" John said quietly.

"What? No, Junior, no way. This is just a minor setback. It would have happened here or at Rampart even Brackett said so. You can't expect to heal overnight. Now, Brice and Bellingham were at Rampart when I called and Brackett caught them and gave them your supplies so they're going to swing by and give them to us unless they're called for duty."

Half and hour later the doorbell chimed and Roy greeted Brice who took his shoes off at the door and Bellingham who just trod on in with his slightly sooty boots. Brice checked his HT to make sure they were available.

"How's he doing?" Brice whispered.

"I think it's all getting to him," Roy confided.

"I didn't think anything could bother our Gage," Bellingham said.

They made their way down the hall. Brice offered to start the IV but Roy caught John's eye and knew that it wasn't a good time for anyone John didn't know well to touch him. Brice sat down opposite of Roy to distract the young man from the IV. Bellingham quietly unwrapped the solution and additives Brackett prescribed and handed them to Roy.

The cold swab sent shivers through his body as he tried not to look pathetic in front of the still semi walking rulebook. He scrunched his eyes shut as the needle pierced flesh. Roy was as gentle as he could be but damned that hurt. The pain settled as the canula was taped in place and he flinched a bit as the cold liquid started to drip into his veins.

"So Gage, studied the book yet?" Brice asked.

At this, John's eyes opened wide in an are-you-kidding-me sort of way. At this moment, his job felt as far away as California had felt from Montana when he longed for his freedom.

Brice saw it written on John's face. He was giving up.

Through the whole process of setting up the IV and administering the other meds, John remained silent only nodding when Bellingham and Brice took their leave.

"John's really down," Bellingham observed.

"Yeah, Brackett said with the post concussion syndrome this would happen. One minute he's ready to fight for what he wants and the next he's crushed by all the things adding up on him, not that I can blame him. I mean they say you can't fight city Hall, well try fighting the bank, HQ and the tabloids at once."

"It would be overwhelming for a healthy person," agreed Brice. "We can't treat Gage like a child but I think setting up some regular meetings for study with him might help. And no, Desoto it's not because I'm the walking rulebook … yes I know my nickname. It's because I think if we're to prove to Gage that we believe in him we have to force him to stay on top of things. Once we get him feeling better of course," he added.

"I think Johnny would like that, Brice, once he's feeling up to it. Thanks for coming by, guys."

XXXX

Roy peaked into the room. John was still awake. Joanne came in with an ice bag and placed it on John's forehead and held it there. John leaned into it gratefully and let the cool air that misted off of it to fill his lungs. He shut his eyes and imagined his camping spot in the mountains.

Dark brown eyes opened and looked at Joanne and Roy sleepily.

"It's been a-a long day," John admitted. "When-when I thought I was dead … I-I for a minute there, I was almost glad."

John wished he could bite back the words he'd poured out. But it was true. He'd fooled himself into thinking he'd made it. It was so close. He was twenty-one, his ranch was within his grasp, he was finally legal to be in the fire department and just like fire, something had huffed and puffed and blown it all away.

Joanne picked up Johnny's dream catcher from the table by his bed. Roy never had a chance to hang it up yet. She sat down beside Johnny and played with the feathers on the round frame absently until it caught his eye.

"It's a dream catcher, right?" Joanne asked.

"Ye-yeah."

"Well, have you dreamed of your ranch, your job and your life since you've had it?"

"Mostly about the bad stuff, but yeah, I'm stu-stupid, I couldn't help thinkin' … about what it would'a been l-like if it would have happened. If I'd gotten my ranch."

"Well, then those dreams are saved here then," Joanne asserted. "I read about these things. They don't only siphon off the bad dreams and trap them; they help you hold onto your good dreams too. It'll all happen for you little brother. All of it. You just have to wait a little longer."

"You think so?" Johnny asked, fingering the feathers on the round object now.

"I know so."

John's eyes began to slip closed. He unconsciously placed the dream catcher on his chest and fell to sleep.

Roy slipped a hand behind the young paramedics neck relieved to find he wasn't any warmer than before. He and Joanne left the room.

XXXX

John slept through supper and woke moaning at two in the morning. His temperature was up to 103.

"Damn, Junior you're burning up."

"Nooo, cold, Roy," John said plaintively, trying to tug the covers up over himself and burrow down into the bed.

"I think I'm gonna have to get you back to Rampart. I'm sorry."

"No. I know I s-said I'd go and I will, if-if you really want me to, but can we try something e-else, please?"

_Damn, the puppy dog eyes. They shouldn't work on me but he looks just like Chris right now…_

Roy and Jo had already tried cooling measures under the armpits and groin area with little success.

"We can try a bath, but you can't bath alone and if it doesn't work, we go to Rampart, no ifs ands or buts about it, deal?"

"D-deal."

Roy didn't want to risk sending John into shock. He made a tepid bath, not too cold but cold enough. John stumbled toward the bath on shaky legs supported by Roy and Joanne. John didn't breathe the entire time his shirt was lifted over his head mindful of the IV or when his pants were lowered and removed. Roy left John's boxers in place. They could be changed after the bath with a towel around his waist for some dignity.

"Breathe, Junior. It's going to be okay. No one's gonna hurt you."

John nodded and gasped in a single breath holding that one too.

"Let it out, Johnny," Roy soothed as the cold water forced his shivering partner to do just that.

John sat shivering, goose bumps covering his legs and arms panting and wheezing breaths in and out as he tried to quiet himself. And the whole time, Roy hated himself.

John didn't say a word but his eyes pleaded like a little kid. _Are we done yet, are we done yet, how 'bout now. Are we done yet?_

John was losing strength. It was hard to help hold him while standing beside the tub so Roy did the only thing he could think of. Fully clothed he stepped into the tub behind his partner, crouching to hold him under his arms. John's head slipped back resting on Roy's shoulder, wetness from his dark hair seeping through Roy's shirt.

Joanne took John's temperature again. One more degree down and they could get him back to bed.

"C-cold, Roy. Hu-hurts."

Roy watched where John indicated it hurt.

"Jo, hold the IV just a bit higher. See the blood backing up into the canula?"

Joanne raised the IV a little higher and John's forehead lost the frown wrinkles indicating the pinch was relieved.

John lay there in Roy's arms half awake and half asleep. His eyes opened fully and he tried to turn around to look at Roy. Being soaking wet and cold reminded him of something back at the winery.

"You breathed for me," he said simply, his hand going to his chest recalling the pain of CPR too.

"Yeah …" Roy answered, wondering what fever induced babbling his partner was going to go on about. He really didn't want to remember the purple-bluish lips, the still chest and the vacant eyes from not so long ago.

"And now the man-hug?" Johnny giggled. "Man you better make sure Chet doesn't-doesn't find out about this. What happens in the bathtub stays in the bathtub 'kay pally?"

"You got it, Junior," Roy smiled toward his wife. Yeah, the warped sense of humor didn't melt with John's body. Yet.

John managed to wiggle out of his bath soaked boxers into a fresh pair as Roy held a towel firmly against his too slim waist. That exhausted him and he bonelessly accepted help with a thin tee shirt. Roy wanted to keep his fever from coming back so he avoided the heavier sweat pants from earlier.

Joanne covered John in a thin sheet and wrote down his new temperature while Roy went to change. One hundred even. Not terrible. It was four in the morning when she went to bed, agreeing to trade off watch at six.

XXXX

By morning the pink flush of fever was gone replaced by the now too familiar pallor. John's temperature was back to normal and he sat against fluffed up pillows picking at some plain toast with tea with Jenny and Chris who had insisted on 'watching' Johnny for a bit. Roy let his kids sit with John alone. His vitals were stronger this morning and he knew John really needed some time to regroup from the awkwardness last night had necessitated.

The phone was mercifully quiet as Joanne and Roy sipped coffee groggily.

"I'm going to go over to John's and get him a few more things from home today," Roy announced. "He needs his shaving kit and a few other items."

"He has no facial hair," Joanne laughed.

"He has a bit if you squint," Roy smirked. "Cap manages to find 'em at roll call when John doesn't shave for a week or two."

"Don't you wish," Joanne laughed. "You get five o'clock shadow by two o'clock."

"That's 'cause me Tarzan he … I dunno, does Tarzan have a sidekick?"

"Yeah, Jane … um, John," Joanne laughed.

"Don't go there. Forget I said anything. I'm tired."

XXXX

John slept until nine o'clock when Dr. Early made a house call. Dixie McCall was just getting off shift and came by to visit as well. Dr. Early sat on the edge of the bed, something he almost never did at Rampart.

"Roy tells me you had a tough night?"

"It was just a little fever, I'm-I'm fine," John replied shooting a small glare at his partner who merely shrugged looking completely justified in telling the doctor about last night.

"Well, a fever could land you back at Rampart so I'm glad Roy was able to combat it. You did good, Roy," Early commented, moving a stethoscope around John's chest and tapping at intervals.

John couldn't argue that. He realized that Roy deserved praise for so many reasons yet when he looked at his senior partner there was only a humble response to the compliment.

"Well, it doesn't sound like pneumonia's set in but you do have some congestion in both lungs so we'll keep you on the IV antibiotics for today and if your fever stays down through tonight you can lose it in the morning. Sound fair?"

"Sure, Doc," John said, sounding a little disappointed.

Dixie helped John get his shirt on over the IV while Early went to the kitchen with Roy for some coffee.

"Don't worry, Tiger. You'll be up and at 'em in no time," Dixie said kindly as Blister _helped _her with John's shirt by snagging a nail in his sleeve and pulling, leaving a pin sized hole in the fabric.

"I-I don't have many toys for her so she makes due with my shirt or … watch this." John ran his good hand under the covers and Blister attacked it with all due haste and chased it until John showed her it was only his hand. Blister nipped him affectionately and gave him a look to rival one of Cap's famous 'twit' stares.

For some reason, John felt comfortable with Dixie's help. She never looked like she was judging; she'd only flinched once slightly when she first saw the scars on his back years ago and never reacted to them again. She was a professional through and through and the gentle voice of reason that got him to spend the night in Rampart when he argued that he didn't need to over the years when he got minor injuries.

"Feels like I've been gone for a long time, Dix," John confessed. He lowered his voice. "Did you know HQ made Roy bring my stuff home from my locker? He didn't tell me but I saw my poster … of Smoke-Smokey The Bear in the hall closet. They've-they've never sent my st-stuff home before you know?"

"I'm sorry, Johnny," Dixie told him, giving him a small hug. "It's temporary. And besides, I've heard from very reliable sources that a certain phantom has promised to booby trap your locker from anyone but his favorite pigeon."

"R-really?"

"Really."

Blister lightly nibbled his hand again.

"Well, it's a good thing M'not r-really dead 'cause I think you'd eat me," Gage told his cat, ruffling her fur up the way she hated. She forgave him easily and curled up on his chest, purring loudly and daring him to try to get up, so with a sleepy farewell to Dixie the young paramedic went to sleep.

Dreams took him to judgment of a faceless tribunal, all older men under white caps scrutinizing him as though they could see right through him. To the right, all the victims he and Roy managed to save over the years, glowing with health on the left, the ones they could not save, grotesquely decaying though recognizable and pointing accusing fingers in his direction.

_No, please. I'm sorry. I tried. I really tried…_


	12. Chapter 12

XXXX

Gage held his hand tightly over his own mouth to keep from screaming out. The faces of the victims from his nightmare faded too slowly when he opened his eyes; tree limbs outside the window shaking their fists at him asking him over and over again the very question he'd asked himself, _why? Why did you let us die?_ He sat up and suppressed a sob and tried to breathe slowly in through his nose, daring only to let his hand slip from his mouth long enough to let air out so he wouldn't hyperventilate. The smell of fresh flowers from his many mourners should have been sweet but left a foul feel of dread in the pit of his stomach. Too much like a funeral home.

It took a few minutes until Gage could trust his emotions enough to take his hand away from his face. It took even longer to convince himself that last night's fever must have conjured the dead victims into his dreams.

The sounds of the refrigerator door opening and closing indicated that someone was probably getting a snack. John knew that he probably had less than twenty minutes until that person returned to his bedside and he was glad no one was there to witness his leap into dream hangover land.

XXXX

It was evident to Roy that his charge wasn't really sleeping when he went back in to check on him, sandwich and tall glass of milk in hand. Gage's chest was still heaving feebly. It wasn't the first time the younger man feigned sleep to avoid admitting to a bad night. Hell, most of the guys at the station had sleepless nights sometimes after a bad run or nightmare.

"Johnny, feel like sharing a PB and J?"

Eyes opened instantly.

"You're eating peanut and jam? That's your-your least favorite sandwich."

"Yep, but it's your favorite and if you help me eat it, I can go into the kitchen and make myself a ham sandwich later on guilt free."

John eyed the glass of milk, which Roy handed over. It was drained in two minutes. Secretly pleased Roy shook head and went to kitchen for a ham sandwich and another glass of milk.

"So, you wanna talk about it?"

"Nah, just a-a bit worried about the hearing," John admitted.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?"

"Yeah … Jus-just hope I haven't burned the bridge with … you know, everything I d-did."

"Well, Junior, just so happens we're firemen so if you _have_ burned the bridge we'll put the fire out and go from there."

"You're just f-full of good puns today."

"Nope, full of peanut butter and jam when I really wanted ham."

XXXX

The days that Gage was to have stayed at Rampart passed quickly at the Desoto's without more physical setbacks. The IV was removed and he even spent some time on a lawn chair in the backyard catching the summer's dying sunrays. He groaned looking down to the straps of his collarbone braces that left streaks of white skin where the sun couldn't reach. _Great, bikini lines_ he thought ruefully. He held his breath to ease the pain of slipping on his shirt, noticing that it, like everything else in his wardrobe was getting too short.

Oh. My. God.

It wasn't like he was planning on having to buy a new suit any time soon before all this happened but the last time he could remember having worn a suit was for Drew's wedding and wasn't that a bittersweet memory? Drew had been dead for over a year.

The fact was, unless John wanted to attend his first tribunal hearing two days hence in rags, he was going to have to go shopping. With no money.

"Uh, Roy?" John said miserably stepping into the kitchen from the patio. "Um …"

"What's wrong, Johnny?"

How to say this? "Uh, um, I have nothing to wear," John whispered almost imperceptivity.

"Say again?" Roy strained his ears hearing something that sounded familiar, only usually coming from his wife on Christmas or New Year's Eve or something.

"I sort of … out-outgrew most of my clothes. I n-never got around to shopping and now well, um … I called the bank again today. Apparently they have some law that says the deceased can't claim his own estate, and even though you were listed as executor everything's frozen in case the fines levied against me for fraud need to be taken out of my estate."

"Don't worry about it, Junior. You can borrow something from me."

John's eyes grew wide but he said nothing until Roy burst out laughing.

"You are not going to have to walk a mile in my shoes, or my clothes, Johnny," Roy laughed. "I'll call Brackett to see if he thinks you could go shopping for a bit today and don't worry about money for now."

"I'll pay you back. If-if the department lets me go, I'll f-find something else and…"

"I know you will pay me back, Johnny, and it will be when you get back to work with me."

"Yeah." John tried to smile but the time was passing quickly and soon he would face his past to defend his future, and all of this before he was even declared alive again.

It took some convincing to get Brackett to agree to Johnny going shopping. He recommended a small shop to cut down on walking and too much strenuous activity. Roy jotted down a few specific locations that had same day tailoring.

Roy handed John his medicine and a glass of water.

"Do you want to nap first before we go?"

"Been lying down for two weeks," John shrugged. "Do you think we could go now?"

Roy knew that part of his friend wanted to get the shopping over with. Borrowing anything was a humiliation, but another part of him was happy at the prospect of going out of the house or hospital.

John squashed his feet into his too small running shoes and convinced Roy that putting on and taking off the braces would be painful and would take too much time between trying things on.

"Okay, you can leave them off but you have to let me help you into the jackets so you don't put your arms over your head or behind you trying to get into them, deal?"

"Deal."

Roy settled the seat belt around John's torso and buckled it up. He smiled just watching John look out the window, leaning over ever so slightly like a young pup going for a drive to a park to play.

The car came to a stop at Francis' Finery. Gage looked dubiously at the fancy curtained windows and the mannequins with the ruffled blue dress shirts and cummerbunds at the waists. He never much went for that stuff, opting usually for plain white dress shirts with a sleek tie. His eyes came to rest on tasselled shoes with bell-bottoms as he turned on his heels.

"Uh uh, no way," he protested. "I am not going in there. That stuff looks like something Brackett would wear."

Roy counted to ten. Again. Hadn't he just gone through this with Chris a week ago taking him school clothes shopping?

"This is the only place that does same day tailoring, Junior so get your butt in there."

Just as the word _butt l_eft Roy's mouth a middle-aged man with a slightly younger gentlemen stepped from the shop talking animatedly about a wedding. The older man turned and smiled at Roy as if he could relate.

"They won't have anything that I'll like," John grumbled.

Roy took Johnny's arm and led him into the shop keeping a steadying hand on his elbow when he stumbled a bit. The post concussion syndrome still caused sessions of dizziness and balance issues.

John rolled his eyes as he was led from rack to rack.

"May I help you gentlemen?" came a female voice from behind them.

"Uh, yes, miss Twilfoot," Roy read her nametag. "My partner and I are looking for a suit for him. Something simple and smart." _And grown up looking_, Roy mused to himself.

"Partner? Oh how wonderful for you! You certainly picked the right state to live in too because we're very liberal about these things in California you know, I have a feeling it just may be made legal soon." The blonde clerk with the overly red lips and blue eye shadow looked slightly misty eyed.

John thought maybe he wasn't paying good enough attention. He couldn't remember Roy saying they were paramedics so he spoke up. Roy looked a little impatient and puzzled and kept checking his watch and tapping his foot slightly.

"Oh, it's legal already in some places and we're really proud of it," John stated. "We can do our thing for the public and they really seem to appreciate it."

"Really?" The blonde clapped her hands together. "We really must find you a special suit young man. Your partner there looks like he spoils you," she noted staring at the firm hand on Gage's elbow.

"Yeah, we even participate in the yearly parades," John went on.

"Good for you! Pride is essential to getting people to accept you for who you are."

"Yeah…" Gage couldn't for the life of him figure out what the bubbling woman was going on about, firemen marched in parades every year.

"You know, I really should get Francis to serve you. He's always excited to meet fellows like himself. Francis! There are some young men here who would love your services with a suit selection."

Francis emerged from the back room wearing a salmon pink tank top and tight fitting polyester pants with shiny black shoes with tassels.

"Francis, these gentlemen are partners," Twilfoot introduced with that same dewy mist in her eyes that she had when she first heard they were partners.

"Enchante gentlemen! It's lovely to see you out together. And partners too … just so …" Francis trailed off and grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes delicately. "Excuse me, it's just that it's so nice to see partners out shopping together arm in arm. My partner isn't … oh but this isn't about me, it's all about you," he lisped slightly, tossing the tissue toward a wastebasket and missing by a mile.

Roy hated shopping and felt bad for John as Francis shoved suit after suit in front of his eyes.

"Try this on, Johnny," Roy said, picking up a simple suit and thrusting it at his partner.

John reached for the suit only to have his hand slapped lightly by Francis.

"Oh no, this won't do at all," Francis stated, casting aside Roy's choice as if it were a waiter's uniform and picking out a black suit with tiny pinstripes and tapered legs with a salmon pink dress shirt much the same colour as the tank top he was wearing.

"No, no pink. White. I'm serious," Roy stated.

"It's not pink, it's bubblegum. Bossy, bossy," Francis said good naturedly, ribbing Gage a bit. "You have a very strong, protective partner there. Very conservative."

"Yeah, he's the best," Gage agreed, completely clueless as he was led to the changing room.

There was some murmured cursing from inside the small cubicle Gage disappeared into with his black pinstriped suit and _white! _shirt.

"Uh … Roy?"

Francis moved forward to go into the cubicle. Roy put his hand out to stop him and went in and pulled the curtain firmly closed.

"Brackett was right about this place, Roy," Gage beamed. "They're real nice here and very supportive of the paramedic program too."

"Mhm," was all John got in reply as Roy manhandled his arms through the suit as gently but as quickly as he could.

"Ow! That hurt!" Gage moved away as his shoulder splintered in pain. He breathed hard in through his nose and out through his mouth.

"Yeah, well don't wiggle so much," Roy grouched just wanting to get out of there. "Do up your zipper too."

Gage caught sight of the price tag.

"Roy! Did you see the price of this?"

"It's okay, Junior, if it fits, you can have it, I'll buy it for you, but for the love of God let's just get going."

Gage stepped from the booth still supported somewhat by Roy. Just putting on clothing other than the loose fitting sweats he'd been wearing for a week was exhausting.

"The suit looks good, now let's get it fitted so I can get you home to bed," Roy stated, wondering why Francis looked like he was going to faint.

Roy tapped his foot, amazed at how clueless John was while Francis measured his inseam.

"You're very tall," Francis observed in a dreamy voice, chalking up the inseam as Roy bit the inside of his mouth glad it wasn't him getting fitted. He had nothing against Francis of course, just if his _partner_ found out before the fitting was over that this was his best date in months, he'd probably freak out.

Two dainty cups of vanilla latte espresso later, the fitting and tailoring was done. Francis shook hands with both men. "I'll see you at the parade, gentlemen," he winked.

"No kidding, Gage said, you're a volunteer or something?"

"Or something," Roy said, thanking Francis and leading the very clueless Gage from the shop.

XXXX

John fumbled with his socks, his cast hand aching from the damp weather the day of the tribunal brought. He had a few last minute regrets at not hiring a lawyer to represent him like had been suggested. He prayed he could keep his stuttering under control, look the members of the tribunal in the eyes and do all the things that Roy and Dr. Brackett coached him to do, but in the end he was who he was and when he looked in the mirror he didn't feel like the six foot two fireman he'd struggled so hard to become. He felt like Johnny Gage, the kid from the reservation in Montana fresh from the train wreck his life had been. His hands and feet were cold and clammy with nervous energy and he fought his heart for control.

A small knock on his bedroom door brought Jenny, pretty in a new dress for the first day of school, or so Johnny thought until he watched out the window as Joanne waved the school bus on without the children.

"What's wrong, Jelly Bean? You're not sick on your first day of school are ya?" Johnny asked, immediately putting his hand to the tiny forehead.

"Nope. Chris and I are going to your tribunal today. Mommy says the first day of school we don't do much anyway and we want to be there for you. You don't stutter with us as much and so you can pretend that we're asking you the questions and answer us and that way you won't stutter."

Tears gathered at the corners of John's eyes. "Aw, Jenny I didn't want you and Chris missing school for me."

"Are you kidding? Chris hates the first day of school. He says the bullies are always twice as bad the first day at his grade so he gets to miss the swirlies, whatever they are. He wouldn't tell me so I won't be scared later."

"Yeah, well if anyone gives Chris or you a swirlie Uncle Johnny'll go down and have a word with 'em."

Roy stood at the doorway unnoticed, arms folded across his chest watching the exchange with an amused grin. Give John a kid to focus on and the world as bad it sometimes was disappears.

"Okay, Jenny, go finish your breakfast. I'm gonna help Uncle Johnny on with his braces."

"Ah come on, Roy, I can't wear those braces to the tribunal," John whined.

"Two more weeks, Junior, sorry, I don't make the rules."

John grumbled as Roy helped him with his suit and _white!_ shirt. Joanne whistled as they walked into the kitchen and handed them both some coffee.

"I made you pancakes, Uncle Johnny," Jenny announced as Chris poured real maple syrup on the stack and placed it in front his uncle.

"Dirty pool, Jo," John whispered knowing full well Joanne knew he'd eat the breakfast despite his nerves so he wouldn't hurt the kid's feelings.

The pancakes squirmed in his stomach as he plastered a smile on his face and Jenny beamed at him.

"You need to be strong for your grilling," Jenny announced, causing Johnny to spit out the mouthful of coffee that was perched on his tonsils ready to take the plunge into pancake land.

He looked up red-faced and gasping as Joanne handed him a napkin.

"Gr-grilling? Who taught you that?" he spluttered.

"Chet," Jenny said proudly. "He was telling daddy that the tribunal wasn't fair, that they might as well put you under a bare bulb with no water and grill you."

Roy chuckled despite the incredulous look on his young partner's face. "Chet was using a metaphor, honey. He just meant that there will be some hard questions asked today."

John got himself under control. "It's gonna be alright Jelly Bean. Don't worry about me."

Roy looked at his partner. They were just words. Worry and paleness dominated Johnny's posture and face.

"It is going to okay, Johnny. You know today's just a preliminary? They'll either determine what's going to happen today or schedule another one. And the best thing about today? You're still dead."

"And that's a good thing why?" John asked, putting his fingers of his good hand down his collar like he was choking.

"Because I can handle some of the paperwork today. Technically you're still dead in the eyes of HQ … I know," Roy said holding up his hand to stave off the well-deserved rant. "Yet they're still having the hearing because the tribunal agreed to wave the necessity of documents proving you're alive since they won't be processed for another six to eight weeks. So, I can at least sign any papers and help you out a bit since your signature doesn't count for much right now … since you're, you know…" Roy made a finger across his throat motion. "And right handed…" he added as an afterthought taking in his partner's cast right hand.

"Thanks. I think," John said, his headache threatening to come back.

XXXX

The hundred and fifty year old building screamed of judgement. How was it possible for mere stone and glass to cause such intimidation? Fire Headquarters had started life as a church, become a courthouse and then was bought by the L.A. County Fire Department twenty some odd years previously. Most of the stained glass of a religious nature was gone but the ones that didn't interfere with the separation of state and religion remained. Others had been replaced by depictions of Blind Justice; the young woman with the blindfold and the scales weighing justice remained. Still other new ones shone with fires and emblems of the L.A. County Department and another a beautiful rendition of the flag with the bear. The past, present and future melded together to form a tribunal of its own before it even began.

A light touch to his elbow had Gage marching forward as if to the gallows, which if memory served him, this building had at one time. He cast his eyes to the floor to watch the prisms of light from the colourful glass dance before his leaden feet. And once again, his infallible savior won out.

"Swing low, sweet char-iii-ot, comin' for to carry me home, sw-iii-ng looow, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home," he sung as Desoto elbowed him gently, though he was amused by his friend's rendition.

"It's gonna be okay," Roy reaffirmed. Then he thought, what the heck, and started to whistle the slow, sad tune in accompaniment.

Joanne cleared her throat when they reached meeting room A and both men stopped, suddenly sober and very aware of what today could bring.

"I-I need a minute," John said. He looked down, anyplace but those damned stained glass windows. The highly polished marble floor was no better. It stared back at him, distorting his tall frame into a smaller version, his face sallow and disfigured in the lines between the tiles. At any moment he felt those thin, black and white lines just might swallow him and become the shades of grey that he never used to believe in.

Joanne straightened his thin tie and pushed his hair back. The door opened to camera flashes and Gage froze.

Roy knew it was a public tribunal. He'd fought for a private one but was told that since Gage was spared a court hearing and criminal charges, this was the best that could be done. Gage was a public servant and Headquarters wanted clarity conveyed to the public as much as possible. Roy worked hard to stack the seats in favor of John but most of the galley of spectators consisted of reporters who had camped out all night to gain entry.

Roy scanned the crowd to find some friendly faces. Nina and Andy sat in the first row and beside them were three empty seats for Jo and the kids. Dr. Brackett sat at a table with three older men, only two of whom Gage recognized.

"My old cap from 110 is on the tribunal," he said nervously. "I didn't know he'd been promoted to Battalion Chief."

"That's a good thing then, right?" Roy asked, watching what color remained in John's face drain.

"Well …y-yeah. It's just th-that I never wanted to let him down. Roy, I was sc-scared to death when I spent my first nightshift at 110's. I was six inches shorter than everyone, just met the weight requirement and … nights were still hard then. Cap thought it was just or-ordinary first day jitters. He really took care of me. He spent three days helpin' me improve my time at getting equipment on so the guys would stop teasin' me. He was the one who told me to go talk to you about being a par-paramedic. Now I have to t-tell him I was seventeen and I wasted his t-time?"

"You didn't waste his time, Johnny. You know that. Look, Cap Stanley took the news hard, but it was no more than ten minutes before he was on the horn defending you to HQ, the public, and the other stations. Your Cap from 110's gonna be the same. You'll see."

Jenny squeezed John's hand before being led to her seat beside Nina and Andy. Roy stayed close to John as he walked toward the chair reserved for the doomed at the front of the room facing the tribunal table.

John sat down like a man waiting for his fitting of the electrodes that should be attached to the hard wooden chair. He gripped the arms so tightly his knuckles turned white and he concentrated on the pain radiating up his arms into his collarbones to keep himself from bolting from the room and never coming back.

Camera shutters opened and closed casting ominous blue shadows on the faces of the tribunal and Kelly Brackett who tried to smile reassuringly down at John from the slightly raised platform. If John concentrated hard enough he could swear he felt those flashes going through him like lightning. This was never going to work. He was sure he'd pass out the moment anyone addressed him.

The so-called advocate chair was slightly askew from the chair John sat in. Roy's glare dared anyone to say anything when he pulled it closer with a great scraping noise and some considerable effort closer to his friend. The chair screeched and whined then made a sound like someone passing gas and slowly, from all corners of the room laughter infected everyone including the tribunal members. For a minute the camera flashes ceased and the 'fart' heard around the world united the room.

Things settled down as someone up front cleared their throat and motioned for silence. One tribunal member stepped forward and began explaining the proceedings while pens scratching on paper accompanied the words.

"First of all I would like to introduce the members of our tribunal. On my right is Battalion Chief McKonikee, in the middle Battalion Chief Smitherman and I'm Battalion Chief Landers. Our job will be to determine what if any action will be taken against Mr. John Gage, fireman-paramedic for the fraudulent employment eligibility requirements presented to the L.A. County Fire Department four years ago."

More camera flashes and hands in the air were halted with a wave of Chief McKonikee's hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to remind you that this is not a court hearing. L.A. County District Attorney found in favor of Mr. Gage that no criminal charges would be laid in this matter. This internal hearing is for the sole purpose of fact finding and the finding of appropriate disciplinary actions that will be taken by our department. As this is a precedent setting tribunal, the information gathered here today will be public domain but any verdicts and judgements will be delivered in private at a later date."

John's old Captain looked down at him then back to the spectators. He showed no emotion but his words spoke to John in a subtle manner.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from any photo taking for the remainder of the hearing."

There was muttered annoyance as people shuffled for lens caps and camera bags and tripods were hustled out of the way. Now John only needed to deal with the lights streaming through the windows that stared like empty eyes along with everyone else. He was barely holding on and no one had even formally addressed him yet.

Chief Landers took his seat and John dared a look in his direction. He gave a grateful nod for stopping the intrusive cameras. The chief nodded back but averted his gaze to the next speaker quickly.

Chief McKonikee stood up and addressed John for the first time.

"Firstly we'd like to tell you Mr. Gage that the department is pleased to see you recovering from your injuries."

"Th-thank you," Gage tried to say coherently.

"Secondly, Mr. Gage we would like to inform you that the department agrees with the District Attorney that this is a matter for internal affairs and as such we also agree that your transgressions were not of a criminal intent or purpose and were not meant for personal gain. Be that as it may, we are now under burden from the citizens whom we serve to find an appropriate means of discipline to ensure this type of thing doesn't happen again. You are not here, however to be made an example of. Rather we wish your reasons for joining our department underage to be heard so we may better understand them and you and come to an agreeable disciplinary measure."

"Yes s-sir," John said, gulping down a very large lump in his throat.

A stenographer sat off to the left, much like in a real courtroom. For a non-criminal proceeding it sure felt like one to John. He wondered vaguely if the stenographer would be able to figure out how to type his stuttering.

Dr. Brackett introduced himself as head of the paramedic program and gave a brief explanation of what that entailed. He pointed out as a matter of record that John was one of the first and best paramedics in L.A. County and backed that statement up with a sheaf of documents to prove that. The good doctor was gently reminded that character references were not necessary as John's record and reputation weren't on trial. Still the gesture was appreciated.

"Mr. Gage, could you please tell us how old you were when you joined the department?" asked Chief Landers.

John hoped it wouldn't be his old chief to ask that but he looked into the man's eyes and told the truth.

"Seventeen, s-sir." He hung his head, unable to watch the reaction. He knew everyone in the room knew this but to have to say it out loud was another matter entirely and apparently hearing it rather than just reading it had an affect on his old chief too. Landers took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly and sat back down while other questions were fired off from the high oak table.

John vowed to Roy earlier that he would not discuss his abusive past with anyone here. His mouth went dry as he gave as straightforward answers as he could manage without the gory details. When he fumbled, there was always a helping hand and since it wasn't a court of law and no objections were made, the help was almost always welcomed by the members of the tribunal who didn't seem to want to make the young man before them look any more desperate or sickly. The press however, took advantage.

Hands shot into the air as qualifications for the job were enquired about. John looked helplessly around. He didn't have time to send for his transcripts or other documents and those he did try to send for were deemed frozen because he was dead.

Kristy seemed to un-melt from the crowd. She walked boldly to the front of the room with a manila envelope in her hand.

"Excuse me, sir. I have Mr. Gage's education certificates and records here, all properly documented and verified by the state of Montana and the State of California," Kristy informed McKonikee, handing him the envelope.

The very impressed McKonikee took the envelope and passed its contents around to the other members of the tribunal who took note of the 4.O average and honor diploma. The matter of Gage's driver's license came into focus next but was quickly dismissed as unimportant since he had a valid driver's license since age sixteen, before he joined the department. Chief Landers made a notation in Gage's file that he would have to re-certify for a license to drive the squad if the department retained him however.

The morning dragged on taking its toll on the young man in the 'electric chair'. Pain was etched in every line on John's face. It was the longest the young man had been out of bed, let alone in the public eye being gone over with a microscope by friends and foe alike. Countless 'yes sirs' and 'no sirs', stifled tears and stoically ridden out bolts of pain from his injuries was starting to tell on him with more stutters and requests for repeats of questions and clarifications of what was expected of him.

Dr. Brackett invoked his privilege as head of the paramedic program and John's doctor and asked for a halt to the proceedings as soon as possible when Roy drew his attention to the fact that his friend was at the breaking point thought it was clear that the men on the tribunal were not out for blood or revenge. The ghost fighting to talk to John always got the upper hand when he was spent with exhaustion.

"Before we break for lunch, we need to pose the question that the tribunal and department would like to know. We feel it fair to inform you that you don't have to answer this question since you didn't bring a legal representative with you today. However, having said that, any answer you give…"

"Can and will be used against me in this court of courts that really aren't a court…" John said far more sarcastically than he ever intended. He was due for his pain medication, exhausted fighting to understand everything as the room grew smaller and the air seemed tighter and too warm.

McKonikee gave a worried glance at his fellow tribunal members.

"We can reconvene after lunch, Mr. Gage. Dr. Brackett makes a good point in asking for a halt to proceedings. It's clear everyone needs a break."

McKonikee looked at the once confident young man before him wondering what in the hell happened to the cocky, feisty demeanor he'd seen when he subbed in for Captain Stanley a few times over the years before taking on a position with HQ. John Gage was a damned good fireman … _fireboy_ McKonikee realized, when he'd worked with him and made both he and Roy prove their worth as those new fangled fancy paramedics. If the old man wasn't so determined to keep up his crusty exterior, he'd be visibly shaken. Little did he know that the man to his left was feeling the same way.

Chief Landers watched the young man struggle with words.

"John," Landers said softly, not caring as much as McKonikee about how toughened old firefighters were supposed to look. "Let's all take a well deserved break, remind ourselves here that in the eyes of the law, no crimes have been committed, get a little lunch, a little rest and meet up again in an hour to finish this, okay?"

Joanne wiped a tear from her eyes and the scratching of pens on paper was cut in half.

"No. Please, if we c-can just keep goin' for a min-minute more?" John tried to look up at his former mentor but instead found a bit of peace in the face of his partner, to whom he addressed his answer.

"At first … I want-wanted to prove to people that I could do something good. Something that mattered." John looked Roy right in the eyes and focused only on him. Roy felt a little guilty, he didn't know how much John was going to reveal and he wanted to protect Jenny and Chris from the horrors of John's past but he trusted his partner and tried his damndest to provide a focal point for his exhausted friend.

Everyone focused so hard on them that it became unnerving and John's eyes darted around the room. He tried to keep his eyes off the magic clock that's hands seemed to go backwards six times as he searched his heart for an answer he could unlock and give.

"I-I didn't do it for myself. Well I did … but I didn't …"

"John, let's get you a break and your pain meds and some food and do this later, okay?" Roy coached gently. John's pupils were huge, the stress clearly aggravating his post concussion syndrome.

"I have-have to do this now, Roy," John whispered to Roy alone, putting his good hand over the microphone clipped to his lapel. "I can't come back here. This is it…"

"Okay, Junior," Roy said, handing John a glass of water.

"I-I didn't have an easy life growing up. I'm n-not using that as an excuse. I want you to know, especially you, Cap," John said, looking at Landers who seemed to dismiss the young man's mistake in his current title for the nervous tension it was. "It's-it's no excuse but you asked and all I have left is the truth … I told so many lies, I ran so much. I want to tell you. I want to stop running…"

John's voice hitched and his eyes closed with bone-deep weariness.

"My life was-was … different. I lost my parents and was left with my stepfather on a reservation back in Montana. I won't give you details." John's voice rose slightly on the last sentence and he tried to suppress a shudder. "I don't want any-anyone's pity. I expect to be punished. I want you to know that. But you asked …"

John wasn't getting to the point and the detached members of the audience, namely the press was all over it, scribbling furiously, some of them sketching pictures as they couldn't snap photos. Others, those in the department and those who had come to look at John as their family, hung on his every stuttered syllable.

John suddenly sat up straighter, his eyes finding Andy. Andy had told him war stories, what prisoners were expected to give for information if they were captured, how they were to present themselves. Andy nodded to the young man and tried not to cringe. He knew John was about to give much more than his name, rank and serial number so to speak.

"My name is John Roderick Gage. I'm twenty-one years old. I joined the fire department four years ago at the age of seventeen to help people. I fe-felt I was qualified at the time because I'd already been a victim. I was ready t-to be a helper. To put my past behind me and do something … I joined the paramedic program because I'd already been hurt. I was ready to stop pain in others. I kind of know what other-other questions are gonna be asked here, so if you don't mind, I halfta keep talking or I won't be able to … is that o-okay?"

The tribunal members nodded, looking like even they weren't ready to hear what the young man had to say.

"You can ask any-any fireman why they joined the department and I-I guarantee you the answer won't be because of the great pay or benefits."

There was an appreciative chuckle from the tribunal members.

"The answer will always be the-the same. And I'm not different. We all want to help people. The reasons for wanting to help people will be the only difference in the answers and mine is different too."

John took a deep breath like he was going to jump in an ocean and never surface.

"I was abused. Pretty alone after my parents d-died. Sometimes I did-didn't know if I'd ever live to grow up. I spent a fair bit of time in hospital. The n-nurses and doctors were always pretty nice and for a time I thought I'd become a doc but then I'd go home and realize I'd never have the money or the grades for school since I missed so much time. I'm-I'm sorry if this story is long … I just can't figure out what you want so you're just gonna haveta take what you get…"

"It's okay, Johnny, just try to focus on the question. Why did you join the fire department?" Roy reiterated the original question.

"S-sorry, you didn't ask for a life story … but the t-truth is, I don't know what you want-want me to say. I had no role models. I starved for that. I looked in town at the butcher, the baker the candlestick maker … sorry, little joke…."

Roy knew what was coming next. The flood. If John joked now he was gonna spill.

"The last time my step-stepfather beat me it was bad. Real bad. The neighbours hadn't seen me in a f--few days and they called the cops … sorry, police. The fire department got there first."

"They didn't have paramedics. The hospital was far away. They couldn't stop the pain, but one of 'em gave me their coat. My first ride in a fire-firetruck was to the hospital two towns away. I asked 'em to put the siren on. Made me forget the pain. It felt like running away…"

The furious scribbling was the only silence breaker. John wasn't stupid; he could sense the psychoanalysing going on in everyone's head. He'd been the subject of study on the reservation before.

"That's-that's not why I joined the fire department!" he shouted in frustration.

"John? I think you really should take a break," Brackett said as more of an order than a suggestion.

"Doc, ya gotta hear me, I said I can't come back here today. Please …"

Brackett sighed in deep frustration wanting nothing more than to take John back to Rampart and admit him for exhaustion.

"I said I was sick of running … A fireman, Josh Greenaway visited me a few times as I recovered. No one else did. He left the turnout coat with me for my whole stay at-at the hospital. I hung onto it when I got shots and stuff and when I was sc-scared. He told me I could be any-anything I wanted to be. I wanted to be a fireman then and th-there. I was four-fourteen then."

"I got out of the hospital. Josh needed the coat back; his spare got wrecked in a fire. He was burned pretty bad too and transferred soon after. I never saw him again but the bug was planted firmly in me. Some-sometimes after that it was all I had."

"The last-last time I was beaten … I ran away from home. I knew the next time it happened, I'd be dead … or worse."

It was the _or worse _part that invoked horrid images in the minds of everyone but the most callous reporters there who were too dense to understand what could possibly be worse than being beaten to death.

"Junior, you don't have to do this. You told them enough."

"It's okay R-Roy, I'm-I'm almost done."

"I was done being a victim. I want-want to help victims. I want to save people, because no one should die in a fire, or a car or by the hands of some-someone who should love 'em. P-protect them."

"It was-was a two part question, right? Why did I join the fire department and then why did I join the paramedic program?"

"S-Someone I really look-looked up to told me I'd make a g-good paramedic. May-maybe it was because they wanted to get r-rid of me because I was always complainin' about how we could do more, so people wouldn't be pulled out of-of burning buildings still fightin' to live and die because we couldn't do anything for 'em."

Chief Landers smiled sadly recalling that day and trying to reconcile that the mature and far too grown up person he told to join the paramedics had only been seventeen years old. No, it wasn't because he wanted to get rid of one of the best rescue men he'd ever worked with. It was because it was the truth. The kid breathed enthusiasm but was easily crushed by the death of a victim. He'd never seen anyone focus so intently on each and every life that passed over his slender shoulders.

And the paramedic program? You-you know how I said I wanted-wanted to be like Josh, the fireman who saved me? When I met Roy Desoto … I didn't want to admit it but I was still lookin' for someone whom I wanted to be like … and it was him. And I want to say in front of you, Sirs," John said, turning to the men, "that I'm sorry I nev-never told Roy who I truly was, that I lied to everyone and that I'm- I'm sorry if I've caused … I don't know what else to say …"

Everyone on the panel was relieved that the young man appeared to be done. Everyone felt wrung out and old, like they'd lived the story of John's life as far as he would go with the detail anyway. But there were those who sought to cheapen the moment.

"We were promised questions from the press period," said a thin, balding reporter who had clearly camped out to get a spot in the hearing if his rumpled clothing and tired appearance was anything to go by.

He was shot down by the tribunal members.

"We will convene for lunch. Now." If he had a gavel, Smitherman would have banged it. Hell, after this he was going to buy a gavel out of his own money to shut stupid people like that up. Wasn't this job hard enough on everyone? He and the other two men now had to go and deliberate an appropriate punishment for the young man who had clearly broken protocol and breeched trust of the public. Smitherman looked at the panes of glass depicting blind justice and lamented that he felt just as blind as she.

Before Joanne could stop Jenny, she broke free and ran to her Uncle Johnny as everyone stood and stretched from the long stint in the unforgiving wooden chairs. The press of course took that opportunity to resume their shutterbugging.

Taking in the tender moment between his former team member and the young child, Chief Landers turned his microphone back on briefly.

"The camera ban is hereby extended through the lunch hour and until these proceedings end. Anyone continuing taking photos will be asked to leave."

John couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Landers wink at him as the tired older fireman went to find sustenance.

"Are you grilled yet, Uncle Johnny?" Jenny asked, putting her hands on either side of his face in inspection.

"Yeah, stick a fork in me, I'm done," he answered truthfully. He was beyond exhausted and didn't get up until all the members of the press and tribunal left.

Roy gave John a hand up and the young paramedic stretched his back out as much as he could with the braces on. Roy handed him a glass of water with his pain meds, which he swallowed gratefully.

"Come on, Johnny, there's a small café around the corner. Let's get some lunch. You need to eat."

Dr. Brackett accepted an invitation to lunch with the tribunal but he stopped to whisper to Roy and place a hand on John's shoulder in solidarity.

"Roy, get a set of vitals if you can. If anything's too off we can reconvene another day. If John doesn't eat, buy him a milkshake and see if you can get him to drink it. He's gonna pass out if we don't get him calmed down."

"Will do, Doc," Roy promised as John rolled his eyes at the conversation he'd heard every word of.

John placed his hand on his chest, then to his own wrist looking at his watch. "Respirations too fast, pulse too fast, brain too slow," he reported grimly. "And if feeling your own knees disown you is any indication, BP too low. There. Done."

John sat back down. He wasn't kidding. His hands shook but nothing short of the wild horses in a picture on the wall coming to life and dragging him out of here was going to get him to leave and have to start this whole mess again on another day. It was clear that he was too weak to walk to the café.

Roy told Dr. Brackett that he would go get John, Joanne and the kids something to eat and bring it back to the room so John could rest.

Roy left to get some food. He avoided going to the fast food restaurant that was across the street, greasy food wouldn't do his friend any favors. Turkey sandwiches on whole wheat and cookies and milk for everyone and a milkshake for John were the order of the day and Roy paid and sat down to wait for his order to be made.

Back at HQ a few reporters returned after a hastily purchased greasy lunch not wanting to lose their place in the gallery. Nina and Andy hadn't had a chance to speak to John before the hearing began. They returned from their car with the cooler they brought.

The name Chet still hung loosely on Nina's lips as she first looked at Johnny, it was such an impression from the first time they met. For someone so sincere he was such a good liar when he needed to be. She didn't begrudge him this upon hearing the story of his life as much as he was willing to tell. She alone in this room had seen the breakdown the memories of his past could induce.

"John, I brought you some of the grapes you liked," Nina said, handing the young paramedic a napkin filled with grapes still attached by their vine for freshness. The fruit dripped with fresh water in which they'd been rinsed and Joanne was grateful to the woman when John accepted the gift sheepishly and slowly nibbled a grape at a time as if more would choke him after what he'd been through.

The grapes were cold and soothed his raw throat. There was an awkward silence in the room and John was suddenly conscious of his chewing and stopped eating the grapes until Andy spoke up.

_Good old sports_, he said again to himself.

"See the game the other day? Anaheim's out. George owes me twenty bucks. 'Course I'll be waiting for that through years of student debt repayments," he added ruefully.

John just nodded gratefully. Andy knew he wasn't much into sports.

A camera flash behind them made John jump and choke a little on a grape. Nina quickly handed him a glass of water while Andy went to have a _little chat _with the reporter. Jenny for her part stuck her tongue out at said reporter and was reprimanded by her mother despite wanting to do the same thing.

Andy had the man's camera in his hands intending to turn it over to the tribunal members and ask for someone who had the authority to evict him.

"Give me back my damned camerahhhhh!" The man's pitch grew louder and he grabbed his chest and fell to the ground groaning, instant sweat soaking his two day worn suit.

"I didn't do anything to him," Andy said. "He just fell to the ground clutching his chest." He dropped the camera and knelt next to him.

"Take it easy buddy, I wasn't gonna wreck your camera …" On closer examination, Andy became panicked. "I think this guy's havin' a heart attack, someone call the…"

Ignoring his own pain and spitting his un-swallowed grape into his napkin, John rushed to the man's side, crouching to check his pulse.

The man's groans quieted into wheezes and then stopped altogether.

"Not breathing!" John announced. He looked around desperately for Roy, remembering only now that Roy was out getting them food, Brackett and the tribunal was gone for lunch. Joanne, who was trained in basic life saving had taken Jenny to the lady's room. It was all him.

John checked the man's throat for obstructions. There were none. He placed his left hand on the man's chest and his cast hand over that for stability and started CPR, biting the inside of his cheek against the pain of every compression he performed.

"One and two and three and four!" he grunted past his pain, blowing breaths into the unmoving chest in between."

"An-Andy," he gasped. HQ should have a drug box and defibrillator for demos, a bio-bio-phone too … _one and two and three and four" …. Breath_ "Go tell someone what's goin' on and get the equipment!"

Andy ran out of the room, having to stop at the 'you are here' map in the hallway before racing off to the reception area.

"Nina, I need help. I can't-can't keep this up. I need- _one and two and three four..." Breath_. "I need you to do the breathing part, okay?"

Nina looked unsure and scared but didn't refuse.

"It'll be okay, I need you to form a complete seal around his mouth and blow as much air into him as you can when I tell you to okay?"

Nina got into position.

"That's right, pinch his nose and seal it completely," Gage gasped in exertion and mind numbing pain as his collarbones shifted with every compression.

Feeling the man's chest rise with the breaths given by Nina John didn't need to further instruct. He saved his waning energy for the compressions, sweat dripping from his forehead trying not to cry out in agony when his cast broke away from his thumb and cracked up his wrist sending small plumes of white plaster into the air, which turned colors in the stained glass sunlight.

Joanne took in the situation quickly when she returned to room A and let go of Jenny's hand running to the downed man. Without a word she took over chest compressions.

Andy ran back into room A with the biophone tucked under his arm and the drug box clutched under that. A small older secretary hauled the defibrillator, apologizing to anyone and everyone that she was a civilian not trained in first aid and almost everyone who was trained was gone for lunch.

Andy set up the biophone, while John pleaded with the secretary to get a grip and put the gel on the paddles so he could administer a shock to the man's chest. The paddles slipped in his sweaty hands as he fought for control of his own pain. He tried to be calm.

"Put that gel on both these paddles," he said as kindly as he could. The woman responded to this.

The defibrillator charged to four hundred watt seconds.

"Clear!" John shouted administering the shock. He sagged in relief as the man's heart responded to the charge the first time.

Wiping sweat from his brow with his shucked suit jacket, John opened the drug box, happy to see it was fully equipped and the medications weren't out of date.

Gage gave Andy the vitals, which he relayed to Dr. Early. He started an IV of D5W with a Lidocaine additive and listened as the man's heart responded favourably.

"What the hell?" Roy muttered, dropping the food and shoving through reporters who were returning in droves.

John couldn't speak. He sat on his haunches seemingly not cognizant of the fact that Roy was back. He continued to monitor vitals and was for all intents and purposes on autopilot.

The ambulance arrived at the same time as Brice and Bellingham covering for fifty-one and took over care of the cardiac patient.

Roy took John's badly damaged cast in his hands, stabilizing the fracture as best he could.

Vince Howard an L.A.P.D. detective arrived having been dispatched to the HQ from a man down call when details were relayed that the man had been disorderly prior to his attack. Taking in the scene of chaos that everyone else had failed to observe in their haste to save a life, Vince cleared the room of all non-necessary personnel.

Bellingham rode with the heart attack victim while Brice stayed to help Roy with John.

At first Roy was unsure of whether to help John to his feet or to help him lay down. The decision was made for him when Gage stood on shaky legs himself. He swayed and was immediately led to a chair by Brice and Roy.

"Brackett's gonna have a fit," John groaned, a small ironic smile playing across his sweat-soaked face. "He told me to keep this clean and dry." He held his battered hand up as sweat dripped from under what remained of his ruined cast.

"Nah, he won't, he'll thank you for the extra practice he'll get examining it again, right Roy?" Brice said by way of distraction as he flashed his penlight into John's huge pupils only to have his hand smacked away.

"Ow, Brice, that hurts!" John wheezed.

Brice didn't like the sound of the squeak coming from deep within the paramedic as John berated him. He shared a significant glance with Roy.

Roy slipped the displaced collarbone braces over his partner's head trying not to cause him any more pain. The bruises from the previous breaks were going to have friends soon if the swelling around John's neck was any indication.

John allowed Roy to remove his tie but clammed up when Roy reached for the buttons of his shirt. Roy's eyes followed the direction John looked to see Captain Stanley striding into the room followed by the rest of the A shift.

"We were dispatched in place of sixteen when we called in available and were closer," the captain explained, stopping suddenly when he caught site of his youngest crewmember. "What the hell happened? Who did this to him?"

The protective stance adopted by the men of fifty-one was palpable. Anyone coming through the door better have a damned good reason for being there. Shouts were heard from the outer foyer about freedom of the press and over top of that, Vince Howard's firm, calming tones of 'nothing to see here'.

Placing a hand on John's chest confirmed that his heart was racing. Roy calmly related to Cap what happened and smiled reassuringly at his best friend who bucked again as he reached for his buttons.

Brice snuck a pulse reading as John was caught up in a wave of intense pain. When he tried to get a comparative one when it passed momentarily his hand was again smacked away.

"R-Roy?"

"Yeah, Junior, what is it?" Roy knelt in closer as John's eyes closed into a squint.

"Can you get th-them to give m-me a min-minute, pl-please?"

Roy wanted to say no with all his common sense but his heart told him otherwise. Gage was in danger of going into shock but he could give him a minute to get himself together.

Brice looked about to argue being asked to leave for a minute. Hell, for the first time in their_ temporary_ partnership Roy agreed with the walking rulebook. Add to the fact that Desoto wasn't technically on duty and you just blew the rulebook right out the window.

"Uh, Cap, can I talk to you in private?"

Captain Stanley walked a few short paces out of earshot of the rest of the men.

"Look, Cap, I think John's close to a breakdown. If we can give him a second, clear the room, just give him some breathing room, I think I can get him calmed down. He's not letting us examine him and he needs to get to the hospital but I think a minute now will save a lot of headaches later."

Cap trusted Roy.

"Uh, guys, let's go just outside the doors so we can keep an eye on what's going on and give John a little breathing room, shall we?"

Chet cast a sad look toward the slumped paramedic and did as he was told along with the rest of the guys.

"Brice?" Roy nodded toward the door.

Brice shook his head and acquiesced to Roy's pleading eyes. "I'll ah, just set up then?"

"Great," Desoto replied.

"Johnny? Open your eyes for me, okay?"

It took the minute John had asked for and then some just for that to happen and when it did Roy saw nothing but raw heartache.

"Y-you know what? Even here, I-in this place, today, just now, I for-forgot about everything and just did my …_ the _job. But why to-today, Roy? J-just to remind me one last time that this was wh-what I was gonna lose?"

John's breath hitched and it was all he could do not sob openly and prove for one and all how far away from being a real man he was. Well, that and the fact that crying was strenuous and would hurt like hell if the rattling in his collarbones were any indication.

John swiped furiously at the tears that leapt one after the other out of the corners of his eyes. God he hurt so badly.

Roy kept his hand on John's shoulder afraid that he was about to collapse at any moment.

"I don't think you're gonna lose, Johnny. I won't pretend to know the outcome of all of this but things seem to be going pretty well here …" Roy wanted to smack himself for his choice of words until the corners of John's mouth turned up in a pained grin.

"Now who's the nutcase?" Gage wheezed. "And thanks. I jus-just needed to clear my head without all these people…"

"Minute's up, Junior, I'm sorry, you're getting shocky."

Brice who was clearly listening in moved back into position immediately. Together they helped John lay flat. Brice had the good sense to let Roy open John's shirt. The biophone was already tuned and Dr. Early was ready at the base station when Dr. Brackett arrived back from lunch.

"Roy … please," John begged, not having to finish his sentence as another strong wave of pain from moving from the bench to the floor overtook him.

"Brice, can you bring Dr. Brackett in please and ask everyone else to stay out. Tell them we need room, hell tell them anything." He looked down at Gage and noted the tightly closed eyes and rapid, shallow breathing.

"Hurts…"

Fitting an oxygen mask over John's face usually elicited vehement protests when he was awake and aware. The sudden compliance scared Roy more than he cared to admit. Roy fished through the demonstration drug box while Brice informed Dr. Early that Brackett was taking over on site.

John flinched every time hands ghosted over his torso poking here and there along the way.

"Johnny, can you hear me?" Dr. Brackett asked.

"Mhm," John replied tight lipped.

"I want you to take a deep breath for me, okay?"

"Mhm."

Brackett listened and frowned while exhaling in a sigh of relief completely baffling the senior paramedic and Brice who wasn't as familiar with the doctor's general demeanor.

"I think at this point the wheezing and squeaking noise you described are from overextension of the muscles around the pleural cavity that weren't properly supported after the collarbones came out of alignment again. We'll get some x-rays to make sure there's no fluid building up to be on the safe side, though."

John's body was absolutely rigid in pain when Brackett handed Roy a syringe with morphine.

"Hey, Junior, we're gonna give you something for the pain now okay?"

John nodded. A punch in the face to send him off the never-never land would be welcome at this point.

The shot worked quickly. The collarbones still moved grotesquely with each breath but he no longer felt them. He floated slightly and let the voices above him blend and blur thinking of what never-never land was actually like. _Never get his own ranch, never have a pet or a person who he didn't let down, never keep his job, never prove to his stepfather that he was wrong._

These thoughts sobered John's mind but kept the pain from tearing him apart from the inside out like it was only a minute ago. Now he had one last request. He finally opened his eyes, which were surprisingly clear. He didn't know if he was lucid or crazy and he didn't care anymore. He picked his head up only to find a hand immediately planting it back down and kept there.

"Don't move, Junior," Roy said quietly.

"Have to," John said.

"Why?"

"Cause I'm goin' to the h-hospital," John said as if that cleared everything up.

"I know, we'll carry you, don't worry. The ambulance is just a little delayed."

"Don't want an am-ambulance, Roy," he whined.

Roy just shrugged at Dr. Brackett who was setting up an IV."

"Ow-ouch, Doc!"

"Sorry, thought you'd be kind of out of it by now," Brackett said, taping down the offending object gently and adjusting the drip.

"Help m-me up, Roy," John said, his head and shoulders already halfway to a seated position before Brice and Roy wrestled him back down. That was the problem with morphine; sometimes it worked a little too good in some ways and not good enough in others.

"No am-ambulance, Roy. M'not gonna die or somethin'. Jus want, Just want to get out a here, kay? Wanna walk out a here today. Might be-might be my last time as a fireman, as a paramedic you know? Can't take that lyin' down," John laughed at his little pun as the morphine enveloped him in her powerful embrace.

"Absolutely not, John," Dr. Brackett said with a little too much authority and volume as Roy cringed.

John's eyes flew open. "What? I don't-I don't work for you any-anymore, Doc, so you can't tell me wh-what to do. You're not my fa-father!"

The morphine and exhaustion unleashed the fury John had never been able to free against the person who most deserved it so unfortunately; Dr. Bracktt was going to be the recipient.

"Shh, John, it's just the morphine talking. Lay quiet and let it do its job," Roy soothed hoping Dr. Brackett wouldn't lose his cool.

"Let him talk," Brackett told Roy."

_Oh God_. It was all Roy think.

While John rambled some coherent stuff and some not so coherent he became unaware of Brice sneaking fresh sets of vitals and splinting his hand and wrist. Roy wanted to clamp his hand over his partner's mouth to save him future embarrassment but Brackett seemed willing to be the punching bag du jour.

"You were against us from-from the start," John mumbled. "Didn't think we could do it. Just like _him_. Said I wasn't …" John's forehead wrinkled in confusion as everyone who had stood in his way through the years fought to kick him one last time while he was literally … down. "Said _we_ couldn't-couldn't do it. Know what we called y-you back then? Brackett the jacket."

John laughed at his own joke. "Cause you had that butt-ugly poly-mester, no polyester, who the hell is Polly Ester again? Oh yeah, that black and white checkered big collar jacket and I gotta tell ya, Dix hates that on you. She told-told me so, but don't tell her I said any-anything kay?"

Ohhhh God.

Brackett for his part seemed perfectly okay with everything as Johnny went on until John's eyes blew wide open, his pupils freakishly large still from the post concussion syndrome and stress and morphine.

"And you know what, Doc? I bet you got that coat from Francis', right? I bet Francis told ya it was cooool or no, what was his words, Roy? Oh yeah, _tres chique_," John said, trying and failing to snap his fingers like Francis had done when he'd said that.

"Roy … I think Francis wanted to date me. He took waa-ay too long to fit those inseams."

Trust Gage to only realize this only now!

Everyone chuckled softly before the sombre mood returned, as they knew it would. Where was the damned ambulance?

"Any-anyway, D-dad … I mean Doc? I-I proved you wrong. I did it. On-only for a l-little while but for then … for then m-my mom would'a been proud of me." Gage's chin stuck out defiantly, the lights from the fluorescents mixed with the stained glass accentuating the greenish tinge his skin was taking on.

"Pressure's dropping, he's going out on us," Brice announced wiping his finger under his glasses.

Dr. Brackett was silent as he administered something into Gage's IV port to raise his blood pressure a bit to prevent shock. Brice nodded as the readings climbed back up and Roy took John's pulse, pausing to give a reassuring squeeze of Gages's good hand as he came around again, fully aware from the counteractive affects of the new drug.

With a thrill of horror, John remembered everything he'd said.

"Oh God, Doc-Doctor Brackett, I-I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry … I just…"

"It's okay, John, everything's gonna be fine, lay still, stop fidgeting."

Dr. Early's voice came over the biophone asking an ETA on the ambulance.

"No ambulance," Gage said again and Roy was prepared to ignore it for his hurting friend's health.

"No ambulance," Kel suddenly agreed and Roy and Brice looked at him like he had a third head to match the ugly jacket he just so happened to be wearing today.

Kel took Roy aside for a minute and Roy was about to accuse the doc of being as crazy as his partner when Kel asked him to calm down.

"You can't just lie to him like that, Dr. Brackett. He has trust issues to last a lifetime without someone he respects, and yes he respects you even though a few of the younger trainees _did _call you Brackett the Jacket. What do you mean no ambulance? He needs a hospital right away…"

"And what's right outside with no ambulance in sight?" Brackett asked his red in the face paramedic.

"Ohhhh!"

Doctor Brackett leaned over the young man.

"Not gonna punch me are ya doc?" John asked guiltily as the morphine staved off the pain but did nothing to prevent the reminder of his tongue wagging earlier.

"No, I'm not gonna punch ya," Doc said kindly unable to resist pushing the young man's sweat soaked bangs from his eyes affectionately. "Everything you said was true, including this ugly jacket and about Francis probably. Listen, I'm gonna give you a little more morphine, not enough to send you back to Blatant Honesty Island but enough to get you to your feet to walk out to Big Red. It's what you wanted right, to walk out of here under your own steam?"

"Y-yeah…" Gage stammered wondering why the Doc was being so nice to him after what he'd said.

"Roy, can you call the guys back in for a minute please?"

Roy went into the hall greeted by camera flashes and called his shift mates back in.

John closed his eyes and let the morphine take affect and fought to keep some control. Roy and Stoker stood over John as his eyes opened back up.

"Whoaaa! You guys are tall," Gage whistled and subdued chuckles were elicited from a few guys.

Cap took over after Brackett told him what they were going to do and Roy was never so grateful. Doc had a soft side after all and he could be pliable if he had to be.

"Marco, Chet, you'll walk behind and to the right and left of our man here, Stoker, Roy on either side in case he falls, I'll be in front. Brice you part the Nile and take the squad to Rampart after we pull away, no sirens."

John exhaled a huge breath still filled with pain despite the heavy doses of drugs in his system. Roy and Mike helped him stand.

"Wait a minute," Roy said, gently draping John's coat over his bare chest and hiding the IV in the deep pocket.

"We're not giving them what they want," Roy vowed. "Okay, Johnny?"

"Th-thank you," John whispered, trying to straighten up and walk as tall as he could. "All of you guys … I won't-won't forget you."

"You won't have to, you'll be soaked in pigeon pee back at the barn in no time," Chet said, clearing his throat of the lump that formed there.

John made it to the door and hesitated, squinting painfully in the light flooded hallway and throngs of reporters.

"Wait a minute," Stoker suddenly said. He reached into his turnout coat's pockets and drew out a dark pair of sunglasses and gently placed them on John's bruised face.

"Always makes me feel cool," Mike explained lamely. "Practical too to see the dials on Big Red when the sun's too strong."

"Thanks, Mike," John said sincerely.

Brice was the perfect man for elbowing and generally intimidating and insulting his way out of the building of reporters, his wounded charge and his entourage in his wake.

Stained glass under the influence of morphine was something to behold. John was thankful for the sunglasses as the prisms of psychedelic light jabbed at him like swords. He stared up at blind justice, groping, holding onto her scales.

_You need glasses you witch_! He thought angrily.

When John finally made it to the cab of Big Red it was clear he would not be able to climb aboard himself. Chet, Marco, Cap and Brackett formed a human shield and blocked any picture taking as Roy and Stoker lifted their nearly limp crew mate aboard hopping in beside him while Stoker ran around and got behind the wheel.

Chet and Marco quickly climbed aboard and Cap took a seat he hadn't sat in for years. Brackett jumped in the squad as his car was in the underground garage next door.

Roy placed his fingers on Gage's carotid and extricated the IV from his jacket and hung it from a helmet hook beside him.

Roy reached for John's wrist when the young man's eyes closed.

"Didn't know you sw-swung that way old man," Gage giggled as the morphine warmed his entire body and loosened his tongue again. Roy took it as a good sign. Hadn't the first thing out of his mouth when a car hit him been that he was trying to find something funny to say but couldn't think of anything? The fact that John did just now ignited hope in Roy again.

"Quiet,_ Junior_ or I'll get Mike to do a stop and grab."

Gage looked up in mock horror as the very quiet engineer blushed at the banter.

Roy looked to Mike and gave him a signal to keep John talking to stave off shock.

"I don't think Beth would like that, Roy. When she picked me out of the fireman's yearly calendar she warned me I was all hers," he laughed.

"They really have those calendars y'know?" Gage said. "Asked me to pose for one too, but I was on-only eighteen and tryin' to keep my head down…"

"You're too skinny to pose, Gage," Mike taunted, signalling and turning into Rampart's driveway.

"Yeah, but I'm legal now … and maybe someone would order me from the calendar and become that four letter word you're al-always tryin' to sell me off to. W. I. F. E," Gage spelled in the air with his good hand as Roy grabbed it and put it back down against his chest.

"Told ya kid, we have to find a girl first."

"Course now I'd be the post-poster boy for what not to do. Only you can prevent being a l-loser," Gage said in a deep wheezy voice mimicking his favourite Smokey the Bear commercials from T.V.

A gurney was wheeled up to Big Red and Gage rode a wave of pain from being extracted. The morphine and pain battled for control. Gage watched smoke plume from Big Red's tail pipe from his prone position on the gurney. He remembered touching his poster for good luck before every shift.

"Tell Smoke-Smokey I'm sorry, Roy, 'kay?" he murmured before his eyes closed and he was rushed inside.

"Tell him yourself when you come back."

"Don't think 'm comin' back…"


	13. Chapter 13

Gage shut his eyes against the hospital fluorescents. Roy hung up the IV as Brice caught up and entered with Dr. Brackett. Francis would have a heart attack if he could see Dix cut off the remainder of John's expensive new suit and _white!_ shirt.

As drugged as John was, Dix felt him tense as the air touched his naked chest. She quickly covered him with a warmed blanket. His eyes opened half-mast in thanks. His good hand snaked from under the blanket, his forefinger gesturing her close to his mouth.

"Dix, keep those scissors handy. Doc's jacket's gotta go. It's makin' me dizzy."

John's hand fell away limp as the ugly jacketed but handsome doctor administered a heavy sedative.

"Careful what you wish for there, Johnny, I just might send you back to Francis to get me a new one if she follows through."

John's momentary smile faded, his lips forming a thin, pale line.

The x-ray technician arrived and everyone stepped out.

When the films were developed and read, it was as Roy feared. John's right wrist was re-broken and needed surgery to shave off splinters that broke loose from the strenuous chest compressions he did to save a man who hadn't spared him one act of human decency. The right collarbone was re-broken but would be able to be manipulated back into place and braced up while the left one had shifted but remained intact.

Brackett did his famous sigh. "Looks like he was lucky … well, you know what I mean," he qualified when everyone looked at him as if he was crazy. "The arteries in his neck were unaffected by the break this time so no surgery there but since he's going for his wrist I'm going to drain some of the fluid build-up from the swelling from the torn tissues.

Roy took in the greens, purples and blues of John's neck and upper chest. The swelling was so bad his partner was beginning to resemble a bullfrog.

"Johnny's not gonna like it but I'm going to put in a breathing tube too," Early said. "I don't like that swelling and if it builds around his larynx I don't want to have to do an emergency tracheotomy on him later. In the long run this is the best we can do for him."

Roy hoped they would avoid using any breathing tubes but he knew the doctors were right.

"It'll only be in for a day or two depending on how the drainage works and the swelling responds to the steroids we've given him," Early said, accepting the tube from the nurse.

XXXX

Joanne took Chris and Jenny home an hour later, making Roy promise to call her the minute John was out of surgery. Nina and Andy stayed, seeing that Roy would be alone as Brice was on shift and the A shift were called to a fire.

The orthopaedist and Dr. Early emerged from the surgical suite as Nina was trying to coax Roy into eating something. Lunch had been forgotten and it was well passed suppertime now.

"Doc?" was all Roy could manage to croak out.

"He's doing well, Roy. He came through with flying colours. We drained the fluids off and the swelling hasn't returned. The splinters of bone in his wrist did very little damage to the surrounding tendons and veins so John's hand mobility should recover fully with some physical therapy. He's not going to be happy, though. Dr. Needermeyer opted for a full upper torso cast this time instead of the braces so it's one full cast across his upper torso with collarbone support and full support to the wrist, thumb and forefinger down his right arm. That'll come off in four to six weeks and he can have a half cast for his arm then and wear the braces for another two weeks after that."

"Four to six weeks? Well, he'll at least be alive by then," Roy mused as everyone looked at him like maybe he'd accidentally dosed himself with the morphine.

Roy looked up into the very confused faces of Nina and Andy and the doctors.

"Oh, well, you know the whole fiasco with the newspapers and HQ and the banks and all declaring John dead? Well, in four to six weeks of processing and a few signatures from you in triplicate, Doc he'll magically come back to life on the same day he can take the braces off."

Everyone still looked at him like he was a bit crazy.

"Oh come on Doc, I have to have something to dangle in front of him to keep him from driving me nuts about the casts and if I can just keep reminding him that he'll get resurrected on the day the casts come off, it'll give him something to look forward to. You've never worked with him when he's had nothing to look forward to. It's exhausting…"

Roy did look tired, Early noted. This couldn't have been easy on him either.

"Look, Roy, you really should go home tonight. John's not exhibiting any signs of anaesthetic sickness and he's completely out and will be until morning. After what happened today and all the stress he's going to need you and if you don't look after yourself you're going to get sick."

Roy shifted, trying to make up his mind.

"You can see him for a minute if that would make you feel better before you go," Brackett offered.

"Thanks, Doc," Roy said and Brackett shook his head as the senior paramedic did a very Gage-like skip toward his friend's door.

Roy took note of the monitors and sat down at John's bedside, taking his hand.

"You did good, Junior. Real good. You don't look like a bullfrog anymore either so don't be trying to get the pretty nurses to kiss you telling them you'll turn into a handsome prince or something, okay?"

Roy studied John's face, satisfied that he was only sleeping and seemed to be holding his own.

"Sleep, kay? I'll be back in the morning."

XXXX

Nina and Andy dropped Roy off at his house and went on home promising to come see John the following day.

"Daddy, how's Uncle Johnny?" Jennifer asked the minute he opened the door.

"Your Uncle Johnny's gonna be alright," Roy told his daughter, turning to his wife to add, "in four to six weeks."

Joanne groaned hearing about the restrictive casts. Over a very late dinner they discussed the hearing and probable public repercussions from the events of the day.

"Media's gonna have a circus with this, Jo. It's like fate just makes like a bird and craps all over Johnny. I mean, how does that even happen? In a building bursting with qualified first responders on any given day of the week, no a specific day of the week when three firefighters, an MD and several other fire personnel are present … until an emergency crops up and we're all gone for lunch … How does that even happen?"

"I have to believe it happened for a reason, Roy. It's not fair for sure but maybe it happened for a reason."

"I just don't know how much more _reason_ Johnny's gonna survive…"

At eight o'clock Jenny and Chris had their baths and stories read to them and went off to bed. Roy was just turning off the outside light when the doorbell sounded.

"Oh no, now what?" he muttered, peering out the peep hole, prepared to turn any media away or punch their lights out, whichever came first, didn't really matter right now. Only it wasn't a reporter at all.

"Chief Lancer? Come in, sir," Roy invited stepping back to let the chief in.

"Been a long day, hasn't it, son?" Lancer said, removing his dress uniform hat.

"Yes, sir," Roy replied, wanting to say a whole lot more.

Joanne invited the chief to sit and have coffee. She could see the fatigue in the older man's posture though Roy, who didn't know Lancer as well as his partner seemed a bit stiff with him. Lancer was after all one of the tribunal members and held a lot of sway in what would become of John Gage.

"At ease, Desoto, I'm here on a social call if I may?"

"Sure, sorry, chief, it's just that …"

"You don't have to explain. I just wanted to let you know why I took the position on the tribunal when it was offered to me. I promised to be impartial, and I want you to know I was, though I was predisposed to being lenient on one of the finest men to ever work under my command. But I knew that's not what John would want. He'd want me to judge him fairly with no lies. From the minute I met him I knew there was something different about him but I wouldn't allow myself to dig deeper. Kid just belonged there, from the minute his gangly legs brought him to 110's, I just knew."

"Wait a minute," Roy said, accepting the hot coffee from his wife. "You said you were impartial in the hearing. Does that mean that you've reached a verdict?"

"Well if we discuss business over lunch we get it paid for," Lancer winked at Roy and now Roy knew where Gage got at least some of his famous sense of humour.

"It was clear to us that the kid had said everything he could and showed remorse not for the work he'd done but for the way in which he joined the department in the first place."

Roys hands shook as Joanne took his cup of coffee back and sat down next to him.

I can only tell you because you're his advocate since his uh, unfortunate _death _in the eyes of the law. McKonikee, Smitherman and myself feel it would send the wrong message not to discipline John in some way, however we feel that his years of exemplary service in the face of extreme circumstances speak for themselves. Gage will keep his job."

"That's great news!" Roy yelled leaping up and giving the older man a big hug as if he was channelling his drug induced partner. He quickly recoiled from said hug and apologized.

"Think nothing of it. It's clear you've been bitten by our young Gage's enthusiasm," Chief Lancer said, wiping spilled specks of coffee from his uniform dress coat with a napkin that Joanne sheepishly handed him while wanting to hug the man herself.

"John's re-entry into his current position won't be easy, however. His own recuperation and physical therapy notwithstanding, he will be placed on probation for a period of four months, one for every year he was fraudulently with us. A formal reprimand will be placed in his file and we'd like him to be cleared by a psychologist for duty as well as an MD. That's the best we can offer, and believe me when I tell you this, our PR man, Dick Friend is working overtime to come up with a plan to make this palatable to the insatiable press people and the public that they're trying to taint."

"Try saying that ten times fast," Desoto remarked still clearly channelling his friend.

"Indeed," Lancer said, standing to take his leave. "I think it would be best if the news came from you."

"Thanks, really, sir," Desoto said, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

"Believe me, Desoto when I tell you, I wish this could've ended even better, something similar to Miracle on 34th Street or some such but proving someone's a real fireman/paramedic is almost harder than proving someone is Santa Clause. He still has a hard road ahead of him."

"John doesn't need any more miracles. He's alive. He's going to be in a world of pain for a couple of months but we'll get him through it," Roy vowed to the man who seemed to care for John almost as much as he did.

"Call me if John needs anything," Lancer said, taking his leave.

"Yay! Uncle Johnny gets to be a fireman still!" Chris and Jenny ran down the stairs. The little eavesdroppers were playfully picked up and spun around and put back to bed for school the next day.

XXXX

Roy slept longer than he'd intended. The relief that John was keeping his job gave him the only full night's rest he'd had in a very long time.

The only problem was, John didn't know that his job was safe yet and that in four to six weeks he'd be alive again…

XXXX

Dreams brought on by the horrors of the day and fever he spiked post-op tormented John's drugged induced sleep, some of them dragging him back to the empty house and locking him in there with no hope of escape, some of them merely annoying and fraught with frustration at his situation …

_He sat on a bench outside of Fire Department Headquarters feeding the pigeons like unemployed people always did in the movies. In his crumb filled hands he clutched a letter from the Department of Human Resources. Cold fingers drew the letter from the envelope. His headache jumbled the words on the paper making him feel dyslexic._

_Well, at least they sent a letter, right? Dead people can't read … The Ministry's an ox and a moron!_

_He read the letter over for the sixth time._

_The final hearing on your employment status is pending and we will contact Mr. Desoto with the time and date…_

_So, not so much alive but at least represented by a living person then; right._

_The red tape was beginning to feel like a tangible thing, wrapping and pulling at him, keeping him just an inch away from everything he'd ever wanted or dreamed of. He almost laughed out loud when he closed his eyes for a minute and pictured himself as a mummy wrapped in fire truck red duct tape and put on display, his old locker back at fifty one his sarcophagus, his poster of Smokey The Bear with a warning. Don't let this happen to you. Only you can prevent forest fires. _

_Yeah, 'cause now I can't, he thought bitterly. He opened his eyes feeling as dismal as the day._

_The headache spiked and along with it the jumbled thoughts he was assured time and time again would diminish from the post concussion syndrome and effects from his amnesia._

_John spotted a pay phone on the next block but fatigue and pride took away any notions of calling for help._

_I'll just rest my eyes for a minute. Just for a minute._

_Within minutes it was evident the resting eyes weren't going to open back up any time soon. His head lolled forward before the rest of his lanky body slid sideways to a semi lying position on the cold wooden bench. The rain continued to fall in a mist accumulating in his long hair and forming bubbles of water on Roy's water resistant coat that he'd borrowed because he'd sold all of his stuff to pay for his legal bills. It wasn't long before it became apparent why water resistant is about as effective as bullet resistant. You were gonna get shot and wet. No doubt about it._

XXXX

The night nurse swathed cold towels to bring the fever down against the unresisting Gage's body causing him to tremble as water dripped down his abdomen below his cast. The nurse clucked in sympathy as the young man moaned around the breathing tubes, something unintelligible about rain…

XXXX

_Soon a voice called out through the cold rain dropping in sheets down his body._

_"Noah!"_

_John jumped. The voice was bodiless but still close and all around him, inside him._

_"No, I'm John. Leave me alone, I need to rest a minute."_

_"There's no time to rest, Noah. I need you to build an ark. It's going to rain for forty days and forty nights."_

_"It's been raining my whole life, no sense to stop it now," growled John. "And it's John by the way. A) This conversation is thousands of years too late and B) I didn't follow the light so should you really be talking to me?"_

_"But you pledged to save people, did you not?" boomed the voice._

_"I-I did. But … I don't think they're gonna let me do that anymore. I made some mistakes…"_

_It seemed as if the voice was listening but not hearing and John was so very tired he took to just listening and bid to do whatever he could. So the voice went on._

_"Once again, the earth has become wicked and I see the end of all flesh before me. Build an Ark and save two of every living thing along with a few good humans," the voice instructed as blueprints appeared in John's hands. "You have six months to build the Ark before it will start raining for 40 days and 40 nights"._

_I am so not qualified to do this! John thought desperately._

_"Listen, why don't you stop the droughts and just let it rain for a few days here and there. If it wasn't for the drought there would'a been a helicopter available to save me from … all this."_

_"Trust me, I'm all knowing," the voice assured him._

_For the next six months John tried to do as the voice instructed but he found himself once again on the bench at his wit's end and no ark in sight._

_"Noah!" the voice roared and boy was John glad he had the wrong guy now._

_"I'm about to start the rain! Where is the ark?"_

_"Okay, and I can't stress this enough, I'm not Noah, I'm John. But things have changed since Noah's time. I've been arguing with the inspector about the need for a sprinkler system for the ark, which I have to admit might not be a bad idea, guess that's just the firefighter in me talking though … Also, Roy's neighborhood association claims that I've violated zoning bylaws by building the ark in his yard and exceeding the height limitations. We had to go to the planning and zoning board for a decision."_

_It was testament to Roy's loyalty to him that he'd even help him build a damned ark in the first place, but John went doggedly on trying to explain the failure just like he had been trying to explain his life … and his death to HQ, the bank and everyone else who wanted a piece of him._

_"Then the Department of Transportation demanded a bond be posted for the future costs of moving power lines, overpasses and other overhead obstructions, to clear the passage for the Ark's move to the sea. Since I'm dead an' all and my pay's been frozen I couldn't make the bond so I argued that the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it. Just like they won't believe I'm alive when I'm standing right in front of them…"_

_And the red tape stretched and grew. John ran his hand through his hair in frustration._

_"Getting the wood was another problem. There's a ban on cutting local trees in order to save the spotted owl. I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls. But no go._

_When I started gathering the animals, an animal rights group sued me. They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will. As well, they argued the accommodation was too restrictive and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space._

_Then the EPA ruled that I couldn't build the Ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on your proposed flood. I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Civil Rights Commission on how many minorities I'm supposed to hire for my building crew. I pointed out that Marco and I were minorities but the trades unions say I can't use my friends to help me. They insist I have to hire only Union workers with Ark building experience._

_To make matters worse, the Customs and Immigration Agency tried to seize all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species but they had to go fight with the bank and HQ over that one since they've pretty much got that all tied up._

_So, forgive me, but it would take at least ten years for me to finish this Ark." John told the voice._

_Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky. John looked up in wonder and asked, "You mean you're not going to destroy the world?"_

_"No", said the voice. "The Government has beat me to it. I wish you well in your fight to save your job and in case the Government and HQ still says you are dead, tell them you're not on my list for quite some time. And as for bankers, let's just say most of them are on my naughty list. Oh, and John? I knew you weren't Noah, I just wanted to see if you would still have faith after all you've been through. Wake up now."_

XXXX

"Johnny, wake up. It's okay. You're alright. Wake up now."

Gentle hands rested on John's stomach, pretty much the only place without a cast covering it on the young patient's upper body.

John opened his eyes, confused. He could have sworn he felt that bench beneath him as he napped, heard that voice telling him that he should have faith. Roy's face slowly came into focus and his annoyance was immediate when he tried to speak but instead of fighting the breathing tubes he just succumbed to sudden weariness and let his eyes close again.

Roy let John have a minute. He knew there would be many minutes begged for before all of this was finally over. John hated hospitals, more so when he couldn't talk and by now he pretty much figured out almost his entire upper body was cast in coffin quality restraints.

John reopened his eyes and shook his head sadly silently asking again, _why?_

Roy wanted to jump straight to the good news but he knew John wasn't fully aware yet. He squashed his excitement down, bursting at the seams but sitting down beside his friend first to get him settled down.

"First off, you're going to be okay, isn't that great news?"

John nodded his head uncertainly, not knowing whether to believe him or not.

"Your wrist is broken again as was your right collarbone. They're both gonna heal fine. You did some tendon and tissue damage but with some physiotherapy they should be a hundred percent in no time Doc said. The cast has to stay on for four weeks, followed by two weeks of a partial arm cast and those lovely braces you like so much."

Roy nearly laughed when John's eyes crossed downward so he could look at his own breathing tube and his good hand gestured _get this thing outta me._

Roy gently pulled Johns hospital gown down over the top of the cast and peeped under the edge. The swelling had not returned around his neck but the bruising made it look like he'd been strangled.

"I'll see what I can do, Junior," Roy promised.

Dr. Early wasn't the attending doctor but with a few words with John's ward doctor, he strode in to check on John himself.

"How's our boy doing?" Early said jovially, catching Gage's good wrist as if he didn't trust the monitors that could give him the answer.

"Was hoping you could tell us that, Doc and maybe see about getting the breathing tube out?"

John looked gratefully at Roy for getting right to the point than to Dr. Early with a pleading look in his eyes. John had the grim privilege of having many breathing tubes and ventilators in the past and he knew the longer they stayed in, the sorer his throat would be and the greater the risk of complications such as pneumonia grew.

John moaned in pain a few times as Early thoroughly checked for swelling or anything that would indicate that it might come back.

"Looks good, John. Okay, you know the drill."

Early had the tube out in minutes and Roy was ready with ice chips when the coughing stopped.

When John settled back down and Early left, Roy watched his friend rest for a few minutes and then, not able to hold back any longer he spoke.

"Johnny, I know you're tired and you just want to go to sleep but there's something I need to tell you, then I promise you can go back to sleep, okay?"

"'Kay R-Roy," John rasped, opening his eyes and doing his best to pay attention. He figured that Roy would have the dates when he was expected to finish up his questioning at the tribunal or would want to know some information he needed to expedite bringing him back from the dead or something. Either way he figured it would be another shot of bad news after what happened yesterday.

"John, there's no easy way to tell you this …" Roy teased; he just couldn't help it. "But I have to put up with you for another twenty five or so years as my partner."

"Wh-what are you sayin', Roy?"

"Johnny, Chief Lancer came by my house last night and told me they wrapped up the tribunal over lunch. They were gonna tell you at a later date that your job is safe and they were going to table the hearing after lunch so you could go home because they saw you were getting tired. But of course over lunch, trouble managed to sniff you out somehow and …" Roy ran his hands in the air over John's torso as if that explained everything.

"Are you s-serious? I can come back home … um, uh, be your partner still?"

"Yeah, I phoned the guys last night and Cap's starting the paperwork to make sure you come back to us. None of us want to lose you."

Gage's eyes filled with tears that in his prone position ended up flowing in and around his nose. "Stupid post concussion syndrome," he grumbled. "M'not really crying, it's just the…"

"Cowboy up, Junior, you're coming back home with me tomorrow."

"I'd rather _fireman up_ if it's all the same to you," Gage sniffled, feeling really stupid as Roy ran a tissue over his nose and face. "But I can't come back to your house like this. Look at me; I'm a walking mummy. I'll really be in the way now."

"Go to sleep, Junior."

Roy sighed. For once his young partner listened without argument and closed his eyes. Feeling very old, Roy settled in for the night.

XXXX

Roy awoke from his slumped position, head on Gage's bed to a soft knock at the door. Braydon Masters stood beside a middle aged woman who's eyes rested on the floor.

"Mr. Desoto, I'm sorry to bother you but this lady says she has something for Mr. Gage and since we're screening visitors I escorted her up here."

Roy's eyes narrowed. He didn't recognize the visitor. The woman carried no camera. Instead, in her hands was the little bear Jenny gave Johnny in the ICU.

Roy strode to the woman, standing in her way, blocking even her view of his friend.

"How did you get that?" he spat angrily, vowing he would never hit a woman while snatching Johnny B. Good from her hands.

"My husband is the man your partner saved yesterday. He had the little bear hanging in his rear view mirror. He woke briefly yesterday. He told me … he said his partner stole it from Mr. Gage and gave it to him. They had it as a kind of … a trophy for getting a scoop," the woman said with much shame in her voice.

Roy couldn't bring himself to thank her. She stood there for a minute trying to peak around his broad shoulders at the young hero in the bed beyond that had saved her husband and the father of their three children at great personal risk.

"He said he was sorry. He never understood. Until now. He tried to leave the CCU to return the little bear himself but he fell when he tried to stand up. He asked me to bring it back to him," the woman explained, pointing around Roy's torso to the sleeping form. I know it was a terrible thing to do, something Mr. Gage will probably never forgive and I don't blame him but for what it's worth, Jerry's really very sorry."

"See now that's again where your husband's probably wrong. You see my partner, the guy in that bed, in a full upper body cast? A guy who has saved more people than I can count? A guy that now faces months of pain and torturous physical rehabilitation, even more because of your husband's thoughtlessness? _He'd_ probably forgive your husband. Don't get me wrong, he'd be mad. But in the end, he'd let it go."

"Mr. Desoto?" Braydon said, taking the woman's elbow.

Roy just shook his head in the negative. If John wanted to see her later, that was up to him. But for now, no one short of doctors, nurses and John's crewmates were getting anywhere near him.

Roy sat down heavily; placing the little bear with the feathered hat beside John while Braydon escorted the woman back up to the CCU to be with her husband. His hands fidgeted with John's blankets, pushed stray hair from his forehead and then straightened things on the bedside table that didn't need straightening.

"Thanks, Roy," John mumbled, startling the senior paramedic into spilling the water jug perched in his hands. "But you're wrong. Maybe three w-weeks ago I'd have forgiven that guy. Now I just don't know…"

"You heard everything?"

"Y-yeah," John admitted, clutching the little bear with his good hand as if inspecting every inch of it.

Roy thought he'd be proud of John for not forgiving the man who stole his gift from Jenny but he wasn't. Something was broken inside of his partner and he knew in the end, he'd miss it.

XXXX

John didn't argue about the numerous tests he had to undergo to satisfy Brackett that he could be released to Roys' care. It was evening before preparations were made to move him.

John transferred himself painfully into the wheelchair just as Roy was heard jangling his car keys out in the hall and speaking to someone.

"Jelly Bean!" Gage said excitedly when Jenny skipped into the room.

"Yep, I'm gonna ride in the back seat with you, Uncle Johnny," Jenny announced proudly, her eyes finding Johnny B. Good clutched tightly in John's hand.

"You found him!"

"S-something like that," John said, looking at his partner.

Roy pushed the wheelchair, his daughter riding on the little carrier on the back to the nurses' station where he picked up Johnny's pain medication and other necessities.

At the car, Roy gave John plenty of time to psych himself up for the pain of moving. Johnny B. Good would be spitting his stuffing out if he weren't sewed so well from the way the young man squeezed it to help forget the pain. He breathed heavily once seated and felt the small body of his niece slip in beside him and cover him with a blanket.

Nurse Clary, smiled at the sweet gesture and the Barbie blanket clad paramedic who blushed more deeply than when she'd given him his bath not so long ago.

"So, Nurse, not student nurse anymore huh?" Gage commented.

"Yep."

"Wh-when do you transfer out?" Gage asked a little gloomily, knowing that most nurses who trained at Rampart took up positions in hospitals wherever a job came up.

"I don't," Clary said. "Dixie McCall told me to have my sponge ready for you because you _visit_ fairly often. On a serious note though, Mr. Gage, I'm glad you got to keep your job."

Roy didn't know how Nurse Clary knew about John's job status but if she knew he figured she must have earned herself a position of trust with one very tough ER nurse. Dixie stood just inside the glass doors and gave Johnny a friendly wave.

"You can call me Johnny," the very pink-faced paramedic said.

"I can out here," Clary laughed, but when you come back, if I have to cut off your uniform, I'm afraid it's back to for you."

Gage could think of better ways of getting his uniform off and the thought cheered him immensely, but first things first, he had to get better and earn the privilege of putting that uniform _back on._

"Now then, Nurse Jenny. I'll turn our patient over to you," Nurse Clary said. "Be sure he rests and behaves himself now."

Gage ducked his head a bit as Clary walked slowly back into the hospital. His head came back up just as the new young nurse turned and looked back at the departing car.

"Uncle Johnny, I think she likes you," Jenny giggled.

"Wha…"

Roy shook his head. His family was growing up faster than he cared to admit.

XXXX

The first week of ups and downs of John's recovery were weathered with support from Nina and Andy and his brothers from the station. Roy and Joanne were to have their first date in over a month when Chet and Marco came to look out for John for an evening and Nina and Andy took the kids to the winery to see the vines and the horses. Stoker and Cap were coming over later to play a few hands of cards and watch a movie and eat some junk food.

Roy took great pains explaining John's ongoing post concussion syndrome to the guys, particularly his still spontaneously returning memories and how some of them were upsetting. It had taken much patience on the part of Marco and Chet to get Roy to give up control for a well deserved evening of fun.

"Sometimes he tries to not to take his meds but if you let him away with it, the pain only gets worse later. His meds are in the fridge. The emergency numbers are on the fridge. The restaurant's number is…"

"On the fridge," the firemen parroted good-naturedly.

"We'll take care 'im, Roy," Chet promised as Marco nodded in agreement.

John whistled at Jo as she did a little turn in her new black evening dress to call Roy's attention to his wife. It worked. Roy's eyes opened wider and appreciatively.

"Watch it, Junior," he playfully teased as he led his bride out the door.

John sighed in relief when the car backed out of the driveway. He had something to do and with Roy watching him so closely he never got the chance.

Mike and Chet were determined not to act like babysitters as Gage had complained to Roy he did not need so when the young paramedic excused himself to make a few phone calls they didn't question it.

Gage held the heavy phone book awkwardly with his knee resting on the footstool, a pen poised in his left hand trying to circle a number and reaching for the phone. The phone book fell to the floor and closed causing a heavy sigh of frustration to carry through to the living room. His overprotective shift mates were soon beside him.

Feeling very foolish but wanting his intended task over with, John let Marco find his place in the phone book and once again reached for the phone. Chet noticed the name of the car lot down the street from fifty-one circled. Gage plead for some privacy with a significant glance and Marco and Chet made sure he was balanced and left the room.

"He's selling the Rover," Chet said.

"What? No … he loves that truck. He wouldn't sell it. You're loco, remember when you got he and Roy to switch vehicles for a while and they just switched right back? No, he wouldn't sell it for all the money in …"

Chet's eyebrows rose. He was right. "Yeah … money and what's the one thing Gage doesn't have besides a spleen and cold, hard cash?"

Chet, never being one to give someone privacy headed back to the kitchen like a man on a mission. Marco followed, this time just as curious as Chet.

"Wh-what? But that's highway robbery! Yes, I accept your t-terms, just pick it up at the address I gave you and mail me an express cheque," John stuttered, his hand raking through his hair. "Yes, the pink slip is in the dash."

John hung up and nearly bumped into Marco and Chet who hadn't made a sound in their eavesdropping. John took a calming breath.

"You two are as bad as Roy and Joanne. No, you're as bad as Chris and Jen. Look I get it, Roy's gonna kill you if anything happens to me while you're on watch, but I'm-I'm f-fine, okay?"

Chet and Marco let John make his way to his room and listened as he quietly closed his door.

"Well, no slamming, he's not mad at us," Marco said.

"Yeah, but he looks so sad…"

Chet picked up a piece of paper with chicken-scratch like numbers scrawled on it; no doubt Gage's left-handed attempt at math.

Marco read over Chet's shoulder feeling very ashamed but at the same time not able to stop himself from prying.

_Rent. Stable fees. Insurance._ All of it calculated and circled in red.

"Oh man, how could this happen? Gage has pulled through so many times in the last few weeks we forgot he was dead!" Chet exclaimed smacking himself in the forehead.

Knocking but intending on entering one way or the other at John's door, Chet waited for an answer. Putting his ear to the door rewarded the fireman with the sound of a stifled sniffle and a nose being blown before a scratchy throated "come in" was whispered.

Marco sat on one side of Johh and Chet sat on the other.

"To what do I owe th-this idiot sandwich?" John asked, a watery smile trying to play across his face.

"Well aren't you a rose between two thorns?" Chet replied. "Listen, Gage, you can't sell the Rover…"

"I have to, Chet. It's the only thing I own outright and don't jinx me because the guy's on his way to p-pick it up at the station right now. With my luck lately it'll fall apart on the way to the lot. And for the record," John added stoutly, "M'not crying. My eyes water from the con-concussion still."

"Yeah, I knew that, John. Roy explained everything to us," Marco said.

"So you wanna share with the class why you're _not_ cryin', Gage?" Chet asked while Marco shot him a warning look.

Gage gave a few stuttered gasps of frustration the he was so famous for before Chet steadfastly went on as Marco wondered whether he shouldn't separate the phantom from the pigeon.

"Alright, Chester B. If you really wanna know. I have to sell my-my Rover to pay for my horse's stable fees. If I don't come up with the money by to-tomorrow, they'll put him up for sale. If no one buys 'im, he'll be sent to the stockyard and from there…"

Marco crossed himself much like his mother did when stressed out.

Gage stared at Chet and it was disconcerting to see the overly large pupils bore into him in challenge to say something stupid, something Chet-like. Something like reminding him that all the guys including Roy told him not to buy a horse, that they were expensive, that he never had time for it, that it was childish …

Answering a rebuttal that never really came, John spoke, his voice stronger and with conviction.

"Yeah … it-it-it was childish, Chet. I got a horse. It was the one thing that let me be a kid. I-I've been a grown up for a long time. Sometimes goin' out to see Strayboy was the o-only thing I did that was childish."

"I didn't say it was childish, John," Chet said quietly but the paramedic was getting tired, his cast itched and he was beyond tired and stressed.

"And know what, Chet? To-tomorrow if that cheque does-doesn't come from the lot on time, then you can see your pigeon being-being childish."

Chet was more of a man than anyone ever gave him credit for. He took John's words for what they were. Frustration of a month's worth of being a walking corpse, strong pain meds, post concussion syndrome and nearly losing his life and his job. And damn, the boy deserved to be a little childish.

Gage sniffled again and put his hand to his aching head. "I'm-I'm sorry, Chet, Marco … I just I guess d-death doesn't become me. Seriously, though, thanks for coming o-over. I know I'm not good company right now. I had-had so much to tell you guys. I wanted to tell you myself before all this happened. Any-anyway, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you one day."

Blister walked between the three men sitting on the single bed. She batted at the triangular bar above the bed that hung from the ceiling to help Gage sit up. The bar smacked Chet right in the head causing him to curse loudly.

Chet rubbed his head and looked toward the sound of _laughter?_

"You think this is funny, Gage?" Chet asked as Marco caught John's laughter and soon all three of them were laughing. Tears poured from John's eyes and by the time they stopped laughing he was exhausted.

Marco and Chet helped John lay down after taking his meds and Chet reached down patting the young man on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Gage. I promise."

As the sliver of light from the hallway narrowed with the shutting of the door, John shivered from Chet's sincerity. He hated his weakness, he hated being twenty-one years old even though it was supposed to be the time of his life according to most people and he hated being taken advantage of by the car dealer knowing how desperate he was stating he needed the money by tomorrow.

The time between his blinks grew longer as the pain meds did their job and John started to pray, something he hadn't done in a very long time.

"Are you there, God, it's me _Noah .._." Yep, the pain meds were working.

XXXX

Dwyer picked up the phone at fifty-one.

"He did what? Wait a minute, Chet. Yeah, the tow truck's here. Stop him? How?"

Dwyer hung up and went to his Captain.

"Can I help you, sir?" the C shift captain asked politely of the rough looking character hooking up John's Rover to tow bars.

"Yeah, you can get this guy to get out of my way. I have orders to tow this vehicle," the man said, pointing to Dwyer who hopped up onto the hood of Johnny's Rover and sat reading a book.

"Under whose orders?"

The annoyed driver checked his list. "It was sold by a Mr. John Gage to Frank's Car Lot."

"And who sold it to Frank?" the captain went on, folding his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Gage said the pink slip is in the dash," the man said impatiently. "And I'll be happy to tow this vehicle outta here with blue-shirt still on it as a hood ornament."

Dwyer smiled in bored acknowledgment and went back to reading.

"Mr. Gage doesn't own this vehicle, therefore Mr. Gage cannot legally sell this vehicle," Cap said. For once Gage's having been declared dead was going to work in his favour come hell or high water. "Mr. Roy Desoto is executor of Mr. Gage's will if you'd like to speak to him but he's out of town so if that was your only business here?"

"I just saw that Gage guy on the news last night. He's alive!"

"Well hallelujah, you're right, now why don't you go tell that to his bank and the L.A. County Records Department and while you're at it tell your boss we'll be sure to let the public know what a rip off scam he's running with what he was wanting to give Gage for his Rover … er the estate of the late John Gage that is. And if your boss has trouble with any of this, tell him to forward a letter in triplicate and John'll get back to him in six to eight weeks when he's resurrected."

The man stomped to his towlines extracting them from John's Rover. Dwyer smiled and finished his chapter while Cap went to phone Chet.

XXXX

Stoker and Cap arrived over an hour later than intended. They had some beer, junk food and a lot of news to share.

"I phoned Nina and Andy. A ranch hand from the vineyard is picking up Gage's horse tomorrow. They have a spare stable and said they'd be happy to put Strayboy up until Gage can get his affairs in order," Stoker said.

"I collected the money from C shift and Emily called the ladies auxiliary. John's rent is covered. Old Mrs. Blacklock, the eighty-eight year old lady who wanted to go out on foot to look for John has put up the money to pay John's utilities for the month," Cap said.

Chet checked off a list he and Marco made while John slept. All the practical things they'd forgotten in their sheer happiness just to find John alive.

The guys sat and had a couple of beers until John joined them in the kitchen. The young man looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Again. The rigid posture enforced by the cast contrasted with the way his head hung down into his one usable hand.

"Hey Cap, Mike," Johnny greeted.

"Chet? C-could I please have a coffee?"

Chet really wanted to give Gage a glass of healthier milk or juice but a look from Cap reminded him of what a denial to such a small request could do to the already crushed ego of their young friend.

No one said anything when Gage picked up the cup and closed his eyes letting the steam from the cup warm his still bruised face. John looked up as four sets of eyes found something to dart to very quickly.

John looked at Chet and Marco.

"You told them, didn't you?"

"Of course they did, John," said Cap. "And we're glad. We're sorry we didn't think of it sooner. It's just that usually the benevolent fund or insurance kicks in and these things are cleared up sooner. If we'd known…"

"Yeah, Gage, we forgot you were, you know …" Stoker rolled his eyes into the back of his head and hung his head at an odd angle. "Dead." It was odd to see the engineer so animated.

"Stoker, you already have another two weeks of latrine duty, don't make me add more."

John nearly choked on his coffee. "Stoker? Latrine duty?" And then he remembered Roy telling him that he would tell him all about that later but _later_ never got a chance to come.

"Yeah, seems our little-engineer-that-could decided some reporters looked a little thirsty and as he was behind the wheel of big red at the time…"

"You didn't!"

"I did," said Stoker proudly, stifling his smile as Cap mock glared at him.

Gage still couldn't for the life of him figure out why these guys went out of their way for him and as they sat and began to tell him about what they'd done, some of what Gage had lost in the last three weeks started to slowly creep back into him.

To know that Strayboy was safe at Nina and Andy's vineyards took a ton of pressure off. John.

"I … I don't know how to thank you," he whispered, completely overcome as Blister jumped into his lap and he was saved from having to say more as the men all recognized the rather odd pet.

"Blister!" Cap said reaching out to pet the tailless cat.

"Man, she sure looks good, Gage," Mike commented.

Chet just looked at Mike like he'd gone mad.

"Well, you know … from how she looked when Gage first found her…" he qualified as everyone laughed.

"They sort of match up now," Chet said, staring at Blister and John in turn. "Kinda fugly if you ask me."

"Ch-et," Cap warned. "It's not too late to switch you over to latrine."

"Pretty kitty," Chet said, patting the black cat on the head. "Pretty pigeon," he added ruffling John's hair.

After a few hands of cards, John was tired. The men retired to the living room.

"Stoker, m'not a baby," John protested as Mike placed the couch throw over his shoulders.

"Nah, babies are quieter," Stoker laughed when John didn't shrug the throw off.

Chet joined them in the living room a minute later with a milkshake for John.

John rolled his eyes. "What, no nipple for my ba ba?" He growled feeling very babied.

"Ooooh! Speaking of nipples, amigo, we haven't talked about where we're going to celebrate your twenty first birthday when you're all better," Marco said enthusiastically as John turned a shade of cooked lobster. "After all, that's a milestone."

John's eyes were wide as the men debated clubs they would take their young friend to.

"What's the matter, Johnny, you act like you're a virgin or something … wait a minute…" Chat ran his fingers down his moustache, pinching the ends until he looked like the villain in a TV movie.

John opened his mouth to protest but closed it. Was it possible that their young Casanova was in fact a virgin?

Author's Note: I borrowed the Noah stuff from a funny email a friend sent me and couldn't resist adapting it to fit Gage's needs for this chapter to reflect his dreams caused by all the red tape in his life. Thanks so much to everyone who is reviewing, it means a lot to me. We're nearly at the end of this story, I'm thinking a chapter to go.


	14. Chapter 14

Five weeks of near constant pain and the fact that he was still _dead_ didn't dampen John's enthusiasm to have the upper body cast removed. It itched, it smelled and it was driving him nuts. Joanne drove John to Rampart for his outpatient procedure in which he would also be fitted for a new wrist cast and new collarbone braces.

John fidgeted and seemed rather nervous however the closer to the hospital they got.

"I thought you were happy the cast was coming off, that Roy would quit getting after you for using his shoehorn to itch and all that," she said, turning to her young passenger.

"Yeah, well maybe if they'd just do it and not make so much fuss about it. I wasn't even allowed to eat breakfast today because they want to shoot me up with drugs just to take the cast off," he grumbled.

"Dr. Brackett just didn't want you to get sick. You have a tendency to throw up from some of the stronger meds," Joanne reminded him gently.

"I'm not a wimp…"

"We know," Joanne said and tried to hide the shiver that went down her spine from what she had learned of his past over the recent weeks. If he were weak, he'd probably be dead.

John looked down at his lap. He hated medications that threw him for a loop. They made him vulnerable, something he vowed never to be if he could at all help it.

"It's just … I-I hate the way they make me feel…"

"We know that, Johnny. It's just you're still awfully bruised and your incision sites will be rather raw and they don't want you moving around too much. They want you to be pliable for the new brace fittings and if you're in agony you won't be. Doctor Brackett's going to be there. You're okay with him, right?"

"Yeah, I just want to get this day over with."

"Well, the journey of a thousand miles starts with a small step, shall we?" Joanne said as she parked the car.

Joanne and John made their way through the emergency entrance saying a quick hello to Dixie who promised to come up and see him in outpatient orthopedics on her break.

Joanne kissed John's forehead as his name was called to come change into a gown. T_his really has been a journey of a thousand miles for you_, she thought, watching him walk down the hallway trying to look brave. As John passed a young boy of about eight years in a wheelchair waiting for a new cast, he automatically straightened his gait and smiled in the boy's direction.

Dr. Brackett intercepted the young paramedic and ushered him into a room. He got John settled onto a table and helped him off with his shirt. John was grateful. He knew what Dr. Brackett was doing and why.

Brackett gently helped John lie down and fitted a clean sheet into the waistband of his jeans to keep them free of plaster and dust. Gage's stomach tightened at the ticklish feeling and he drew away out of habit.

"It's okay, John. Relax. It won't take long," Brackett said quietly.

"Thanks, doc," John said in heartfelt appreciation.

"Don't thank me yet, Johnny," Brackett smiled as he set up an IV for the medications.

"Nothing to eat or drink this morning?"

"Nooouch," John hissed as the needle pierced flesh. "Look, doc, I don't need this. I've had casts removed before. Why is this so different?"

Brackett probed around John's ribs just underneath the cast.

"Ouch! Gah, point taken. You take sadism 101 or somethin', Doc?"

"Top honors," Brackett said. "But seriously, Johnny on your last examination three days ago your muscles were so tight and stiff we knew any jarring would be excruciating. This really is for the best." Brackett adjusted the drip and John waited for the hated floating feeling of not being in control to begin. His entire body seemed to clench in anticipation of it, trying to ward it off just a little longer.

"Don't fight it, Johnny. You're not on the battlefield. You're allowed a little relief you know. And I'll be here the whole time."

Brackett watched John fight the meds and finally lose. He didn't sleep. His eyes just took on a slightly glassy look, his face impassive. He wondered why John never thought he needed or maybe even deserved to be freed from pain.

As the upper body cast was cut away by the orthopaedist John turned his head to Dr. Brackett who stood looking at his most recent x-rays on the other side of the room. It blew his mind that the broken skeleton floating in its phosphorescent creepiness was his.

The young paramedic stared at the spot where his spleen once was. Sure, you really don't need one of those anyway, but on principle it would have been nice to still have one, he thought to himself. Then he got mad at his other organs for greedily taking up its spot so willingly to the point where he couldn't even figure out exactly where it had been. Yep, they'd given him the good stuff.

Next the x-ray of his wrist went up on the light board. Gage tuned out the buzzing of the saw and the very embarrassing sweaty smell emanating from beneath it until horror of horrors! Beautiful Nurse Clary from his previous ward was at his side and she gently bathed his body with sweet smelling soap and water so perfectly warm he just couldn't hold onto the embarrassment for the relief it brought.

The warm washcloth dipped again and again into the blissfully warm water and trailed goose bumps of pleasure over his flesh as his eyes closed from the medication and relief. _So much better than Roy's dress uniform hanger,_ Gage sighed in relief. He vowed to try to remember to tell Roy that his dress uniform was now living on the floor of his closet because … well, he itched and the hanger fit under the cast.

"Ooh, yeah, that's the spot," he moaned before his good hand flew to his mouth. _Oh my god did I say that out loud?_ he thought desperately.

Nurse Clary giggled despite her best efforts.

_So, that would be a big fat yes…_

Well, he tried to tell_ them _that he was a big strong paramedic and he didn't need any pain meds or muscle relaxants for this procedure but _they _didn't listen. For that matter, he wondered who _they_ were. Dr. Brackett had used the terms 'they recommend some pain relief for this procedure as it can take a long time to be refitted and it causes rather a lot of jarring.'

_Ah, so Early and Brackett then, probably Morton too _he mused. _So they were the they in they? If they were dentists they would be the three out of five dentists who recommend brushing three times a day too._

_Hm, I wonder what the other two out of five dentists are thinking …_

"Mr. Gage, we're going to sit you up now so I can clean your back and wrist so we can fit you for your wrist cast and collarbone braces, okay?"

John nodded stupidly, feeling no pain so far at all. Until now.

_holycrapthathurtsonofa*#*!!_

They sat him up as gently as they could. Now he knew _they _were right. In fact, _they_ were gods. If it hurt this much with the meds, he was sure he'd pass out without them. In fact, passing out seemed a very viable option at the moment.

"Doc?" Gage slurred toward Dr. Brackett.

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"Yer like, the smartest one of them _theys_ there ever was."

"Thanks, John, I like to think I graduated _they_ and _sadism 101_ with honors for a reason," the doc winked in sympathy and understanding. "Still hurts though, huh?"

"Yeah, and now Nurse Clary is calling me Mr. Gage again too. See she told me if she had to cut my clothes off again she'd have to call me that."

Clary finished drying Gage's back with smooth, soothing circles that made him sleepy. She raised the bed slightly and eased her patient back. Gage got a better look at his X-rays from this position.

"Hip bone's connected to the leg bone … Thigh bone's connected to the …" he began to sing, stopping to ask Brackett what lyrics came next. Brackett indulged to the very stunned Nurse Clary's surprise. The young man on the bed must be very special indeed. Brackett was usually all business.

"Whoa! The collarbone's not connected anymore." He stopped singing, his eyes roving to the shiny metal bar in his wrist that stuck out in contrast to the ghostly white bones on the X-rays.

"Doc, pst, come 'ere," Gage said urgently.

"Yeah, Johnny, what is it," Brackett smiled leaning down slightly as Gage caught his collar.

"I'm bionic! Look!"

Gage's finger pointed to the X-Ray and Clary giggled. Again. Gage liked the sound. It was light and friendly, not mocking or condescending.

"Yep, you're bionic," Brackett agreed simply because to do otherwise until the good meds wore off would be an exercise in futility.

"Cooool!" Gage said and promptly fell asleep.

XXXX

John awoke an hour later feeling groggy and heavy. He hated the after affects of meds almost as much as he hated the way they made him feel when they chorused through him first hand.

"Mmmnnn," he moaned as Joanne called to him softly. She held a straw to his lips. He sipped some cool water, his head clearing almost immediately. His good hand came up to touch his chest. He resisted the urge to scratch the still itchy and tender pink skin.

"How are you feeling, Johnny," Joanne asked, leaning over him slightly.

"Hot and tender on the inside and flaky on the outside," John smiled crookedly. "Just like barbecue ribs."

"Then I've got just the barbecue sauce, Mr. Gage," Nurse Clary said, stepping in. In her hand was a bottle of calamine lotion. She began by taking his vitals and charting the results.

"Dr. Brackett told me to remove your IV if everything was normal and it is," she smiled. She removed the IV and gently held a cotton ball to the tiny hole.

"Everything normal? That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day," Gage yawned.

"Don't move around just yet," Nurse Clary told John. "I have to keep pressure on this for a minute."

"If I keep having needles like this, I'm gonna have to stop being a fireman, I won't be waterproof anymore."

Don't worry, I won't leave any Titanic sized holes in you," Clary told him.

Brackett watched from the hallway out of sight as Clary gently lowered the sheet covering John's torso. A slight wince and the calamine was slathered generously. John's eyes closed in relief. Brackett was pleased. John was showing signs of improvement from fear of touch or exposure.

After a half hour more of rest, John was clear to return home to Roy and Joanne's. Joanne took his elbow and yet another set of instructions for their guest. Clary wished him luck and as he walked slowly and slightly unsteadily down the hallway, he checked over his shoulder several times. Each time he looked back, she was still there with a smile of encouragement.

"Sorry, I c-come with more instructions than the space shuttle," Gage said.

"Well, Chris'll be happy. He always wanted to be an astronaut," Jo replied, helping John into the car.

XXXX

John's rehabilitation appointments started in earnest now that he was no longer completely immobile. He met with the physiotherapist three times a week for range of movement treatments and hot packs and massages. The hot packs were a godsend but the massages made him uncomfortable and he usually left tighter than when he'd arrived.

XXXX

John sat tapping his foot nervously in the waiting room of his psychiatrist. Brackett had requested another doctor but the waiting list was long for that particular doctor and John was anxious to get this part of his punishment … um … treatment, over with so he took whoever came up on the roster as available.

A rather cross looking receptionist with a tight bun in her hair and large black rimmed glasses looked at him as though he was a fly on the wall she'd like to swat. He gulped nervously, trying to convince himself it was just his nerves making him think that.

After ten minutes of sitting in the waiting room, a young woman stepped from the inner office sobbing uncontrollably and rushed past him.

_Well that can't be good …_ Gage mused to himself, shifting slightly.

"Mr. Gage, Dr. Fenwick will see you now."

The word _see_ seemed to linger on her lips.

_Don't be paranoid, John, just go in there and get this over with_, John told himself.

John opened the door, noting that the curtains in the small room were closed and it was rather dim. The walls were decorated with literary awards and framed articles Dr. Fenwick had written for the New England Journal of Medicine. In the corner there was a bed like the ones up in the ward. John didn't know what he had been expecting but this wasn't it. A couch maybe. But this? No.

Fenwick didn't look up from scribbling notes on a tablet of paper. Beside his desk were stacked newspapers and John caught sight of a photo of himself in uniform alongside his graduating class from the academy. It didn't take much of a stretch to figure out what the papers under that one were about.

It felt like an hour before Fenwick gestured vaguely for Gage to lie down on the bed. John could hear his heart beat in his ears. He forced himself to walk forward and sat on the very edge of the bed, looking around for a chair that would serve him much better. He felt very much like when he was studied at the reservation.

Fenwick put his pen down and flicked on a tape recorder in plain sight without even asking John how he felt about that.

"Lie down and get comfortable, , we have a lot to cover," Fenwick said.

"Uh, um, if it's okay, I'll just sit. I just got my casts off and it's still a little tender, really can't lie flat just yet…"

"Very well. I think you know why you're here. I have been given ten sessions to begin with to get you ready to report for duty. What transpires between then and now will determine the outcome of these sessions. I've read your medical files and have familiarized myself with what has transpired in the last two months."

Gage didn't know what he was supposed to say to that so he just nodded. Fenwick spoke into the microphone.

"John Roderick Gage, age twenty-one. As we begin our session I note an aversion to submission. Patient refuses to lie on the couch—."

"It's not a couch, it's a bed," Gage said defensively, mouth going dry and glancing down at his watch.

"It's the same thing, Mr. Gage," Fenwick challenged. "Or is there something you'd like to say in defence of your aversion?" Fenwick pawed through a transcript of the tribunal hearing that seemed to materialize out from under the wads of paper on his desk.

"Tell me about your father."

_Geez Sigmund Freud much?_ John thought nervously. He did not like this man. John tensed. This was nothing like the T.V. shrinks he'd seen on that soap opera back when he'd been laid up at Rampart.

John opened his mouth and spoke slowly, his stuttering growing worse by the minute. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, was it?

"Uh, um, m-my dad. He-he was great. I'm named after 'im. He taught me about-about horses and took me riding. He was…"

But Fenwick seemed not to want to hear of the better times in John's life. He seemed to want to dig into the gritty hard times with his stepfather in particular and what transpired only after the death of his parents. John knew this was a bad sign. A certain pride rose in him. He did not come from bad stock as some had claimed. He had a good family. He remembered their morals. He was not made of the same stuff his stepfather was made of.

John looked straight at the man regretting the instant their eyes met having been so eager to get this over with. The man had more knives in his glare than a surgeon had in his tray. He was ready to dissect, to tear down and John saw an ego there.

"Let me tell you a little of my philosophy," Fenwick said, leaning back in his chair and turning off the tape recorder. "I believe I can break my patients down and build them back up again. But what I see in you already is that you are merely searching for a means to an end. A signature on a piece of paper that will allow you to continue on in a job you clearly had no right to be in. Now, granted you have been given your job back on certain terms and conditions but you should not take this as a dismissal of your transgressions. Your stepfather was a very sick man to do what he did to you. We need to find out how sick you are because of that."

John opened and closed his mouth a few times at that. Ice water seemed to drop into his stomach and for the next thirty minutes, he did not speak. Fenwick read John's own words back to him from the transcript. Had he really sounded that pathetic? Had he really told a whole room of people about his past?

When Fenwick was done talking, mostly just spitting John's own words from the tribunal back at him, he flicked open the curtains so fast the sun hit John's eyes and he jolted in a vampire like fashion, his arm coming up in defence of his eyes.

Fenwick sighed and wrote something on a small prescription pad.

"Go home and start taking these three times daily," he said vaguely, gesturing to the door and opening up another patient file before he was even out of the room.

Gage looked at the slip of paper in his hand. _Prescription downers?_ The doctor sighed again as Gage opened his mouth yet again and was interrupted before he could even question the medication.

"They'll help you open up next time you come in. Relax you. I can't get anything out of you this way."

"But…"

"There are no buts, Mr. Gage, if you are to get well, you need to follow these orders, oh and one more thing, fill this container and give it to the nurse on your way out."

John took the small plastic cup that was shoved into his hands.

"A urine sample? What the hell is this for?"

"Do not swear in my office, Mr. Gage," Fenwick said, scribbling furiously in John's file that he had just reopened.

John's head was pounding, he missed a dose of his pain meds and he hadn't slept well the night previous to this appointment. He ran his hand over his face roughly. A drug test? No one said anything about this before.

The nurse brushed past him to check the washroom for anyone in there and told him to go in and leave the door open a crack.

"We can't have you switching samples or something," she said icily. "You wouldn't believe how many of you try that little trick."

Gage filled the cup, hoping it was wet when he handed it back to the nasty nurse. It was all the defiance he had left in him and it felt good. It was the only thing that kept his feet moving to get the hell out of that office.

XXXX

After taking John to his third appointment with Dr. Fenwick, Joanne wondered how he managed to come out in worse shape than when he'd gone in. He slept for hours after each one, yet after physiotherapy he was energetic and seemed to have a little of his old skip in his step. Though she technically didn't need to check on him all the time now that he was mobile and mostly on the mend, she found herself unable to resist.

John slept with his left hand above his head, shielding his eyes. Roy told her that was normal for his partner but Joanne wondered at the position. It had a slightly defensive stance to it even in sleep. Something wasn't right.

The following afternoon when Joanne dropped John off for his physio appointment she had lunch with Dixie and Nurse Clary.

"To tell you the truth," Nurse Clary said. "I thought Johnny was going to ask me out three weeks ago, but then again he was on some pretty serious pain meds so maybe it was just me. I hate to admit I'm a little insulted, Dix says he asks most of the new nurses out at least once."

"You said about three weeks ago?" Joanne asked, sipping her tea, the wheels in her head turning.

"Yeah. He was so funny and friendly and we seemed to hit it off, well you know, I mean he was a bit shy but he really seemed to like me."

"My daughter said he was in love with you," Joanne laughed. "Said he watched you all the way back into the hospital when you saw him downstairs for his release."

"He did," Clary admitted shyly. "I could tell because I was looking at him too." She looked a little slyly toward Dix. "You know, in a professional nursing sort of way," she amended.

"Oh, come on. Don't worry. If I had to reprimand every nurse who took a second or third look at Johnny Gage I'd have no nurses left."

"I see him up in physio still. I rotate see, and I take vitals sometimes before and after a workout to see if patients are working out appropriately for the level assigned by the doctor. Johns' really progressing. But the Physiotherapist on floor three worries that he's been pushing himself too hard in the past three weeks."

"Again with the three weeks," Jo murmured out loud. John had been seeing Fenwick for three weeks…

After lunch, John came down the elevator, face pink from exertion and in obvious pain and just a little annoyed.

"What's up, Johnny?"

"Nuthin', just the physiotherapist said I have to scale it back a bit. That I'm trying to go too fast to recover to get back to work and if I keep it up I'll just set myself back."

"It's good advice, Johnny," Jo said quietly, taking his arm. John let himself be led to the car. He closed his eyes as soon as they were underway.

"I had lunch with Nurse Clary and Dixie today," she said, hoping to garner some interest.

"Oh yeah?" John said, eyes open and paying keen attention.

For a second, Jo glanced the John Gage she knew and loved. But in a second, the twinkle in his eye disappeared to hide behind a mask of indifference.

"I think she likes you."

"Oh, really?"

There it was again, that spark but it disappeared quicker than the last time.

"Yeah, she seemed interested in you. I think she wants you to ask her out."

"Nah. I don't …"

"You think she's pretty don't you?"

"What? Yeah, of course, are you kiddin' me, she's gorgeous! She's … Um, it would be best if I didn't."

Joanne didn't press though with every fibre of her being she wanted to. She made a mental note to talk to Roy and even Brackett to find out what was going on. She knew John would have a hard time speaking to a psychiatrist, hell who wouldn't but this wasn't normal.

Once again that night she checked on John before going off to bed. He'd dutifully eaten his dinner but seemed not to taste it and had retreated to his room shortly after the dishes were done. Joanne tried to sleep but couldn't. She looked at the clock and picked up the phone to call Roy.

Cap put Roy on the phone and Joanne poured out all of her suspicions. She had nothing really put into words but was relieved that Roy trusted her feelings. He really was one in a million. Roy promised to try to find out what was going on. He'd been working a lot lately and hadn't seen Johnny or his family much in the last two weeks.

XXXX

Roy found John peaking beneath his cast wrist when he came home from work the next morning before the rest of his family was up.

"Not scratching under that with my shoe horn again are you?" Roy laughed. "Or my dress uniform hanger…"

"Nah. It's just that … Roy, my arm's getting skinnier with this stupid cast. It's going to take me forever to get back to work…"

"Whoa, one step at a time, Junior. I know it's hard but you have to remember, only a month ago we didn't even know if you had a job to come back to. It's a done deal, okay? Look, you already knew you had months of physiotherapy to go through but I come bearing good news on that front too."

"What?" John asked, almost grinning.

"Stoker bought a home gym. They asked him to pose again for the calendar so he says he wants to work out some more. He says you can come over any time you like and work your legs for now and then when you get clearance from Brackett you can work your upper body, too."

Gage was marginally cheered up by this news but Roy could see that weeks of being cooped up were wearing on the usually energetic young man. He then spotted the reason for the gloomy mood that clung to his young friend. The newspaper was open to a picture of John in better times side by side with a picture from when he was in Rampart. The headline about boiled Roy's blood.

_Fireman/Paramedic Gets Job Back with a Slap on the Wrist, But Can He be Trusted?_

"You swore you were done reading about this, Junior," Roy said tiredly.

"I said I was done reading lies about it. This is valid. _Can_ I be trusted?"

"I trust you. They speak about a slap on the wrist?" he said angrily. He picked up his partner's cast wrist gently, the bruises spider-webbing down each slender finger and thumb from under the clean white plaster. "Since when does someone need a cast and a metal rod inserted into their wrist from a slap!"

John looked up into Roy's face. He saw truth there.

Roy folded up the newspaper and wanted to take it outside and burn it. Clearly the article had etched into John's wavering faith in himself. Now that Gage was a bit more mobile he realized they would have to start watching for reporters again. Chief Lancer had told Roy that in terms of punishment from HQ John got off as light as was possible. It was the trial by fire … or flashbulb that would prove to be the gauntlet in the end.

Roy kind of wanted to take a short nap but seeing the despondency eating at his friend, he decided it could wait for later.

"How're the sessions with Fenwick going?" Roy asked, trying to sound as casual as he could. Joanne told Roy that she tried to get Gage to tell her how things were going but didn't want to pry. Roy thought he'd at least give it a try.

"They're … going. I guess. How would I know? I've never been to a-a shrink bef-before." John answered quickly and nervously and Roy picked up on something Jo had told him to watch for. John stuttered worse whenever Fenwick was mentioned. Roy decided to talk to Brackett about it on Monday morning.

"Listen, John, it's a really nice day out. Why don't we wake Chris and Jen and let Jo sleep in and go see that horse of yours?"

"You mean it?" John jumped up without waiting for an answer and went to wake the kids while Roy called Andy.

The kids dressed and Roy helped John into a button up shirt. John looked at him quizzically.

"Yeah, remember how I told you that you wouldn't have to walk a mile in my clothes? Well I lied. You didn't have anything warm enough that would fit you length-wise, even without the huge cast on, so…"

"Thanks, Roy. Really." John snuggled into Roy's blue flannel realizing how much he'd grown but how much weight he'd lost. The shirt was still a little too big despite the braces and cast on his wrist. Before he could start worrying about the weight requirements of the department, Roy herded them all out the door and drove to a restaurant for breakfast.

After they'd eaten, John pulled his wallet out. Roy tried to stop him but John explained that Brice had come by with some money collected from the B shift and insisted that he take it.

"I'd like to buy you guys breakfast, okay?"

"Sure, Johnny," Roy smiled, knowing how much John craved his independence back. The waitress smiled and winked at John as he left a generous tip. John blushed and Roy wondered if what the guys had told him when he came back from his evening out with Jo was true.

XXXX

John and the kids played eye-spy and Roy was pleased to see the easy manner return to his friend. John pointed out several farm animals along the way and the car slowed to allow a family of geese to cross.

John hadn't been back to the vineyard since his accident. He didn't realize the route they took went right past the ranch he was going to put an offer in on before he died.

"Uncle Johnny, what kind of cows are those ones over there?" Jenny asked.

John didn't answer.

"Hey, Junior, you okay?" Roy asked.

"Uh, yeah … Sorry, Jelly Bean, I didn't hear you," Gage responded as Roy watched him turn around as they drove by a property for sale sign as far as he could.

"Um, oh those are dairy cattle. The guy who owns 'em is moving to a bigger ranch down the way. It's so close he said he doesn't even have to drive 'em. They'll herd 'em on down to their new home."

"How do you know that, Johnny?" Roy asked.

"W-well I called the number from the ad in the paper the day before the accident …"

"Ohhhh!"

"Yeah …" Gage said sadly but he turned himself to face fully forward and Roy watched his face take on a stoic expression. The _for sale_ sign had a huge _SOLD_ banner across it.

Roy's gut twisted in guilt. If only he wasn't so tired the day Gage asked him to go see the property with him.

XXXX

As soon as the car stopped beside Nina and Andy's house, Chris and Jen leapt out and ran up the front steps. Roy got out and stretched and waved to Nina who stood in the door. He leaned down to see if John needed help getting out but didn't say anything. John sat still in the front seat. Roy followed his gaze toward the irrigation ditches. He signalled Nina that everything was okay when she looked concerned and fortunately Nina understood and took the kids into the house.

John didn't blink. Roy got back in the car and waited for him to speak, noting in the fall sunshine that his partner's pupils, though still too large were much closer to normal than they were even a week ago.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just … a little weird you know? Feels like a time warp or something from one of Chet's movies. Like I was here four years ago … Oh God, now I sound like one of those soap operas I watched when I was laid up last time."

"It's normal, Johnny. Doc said you'd have a little trouble putting things together for awhile."

"Yeah. I guess." Gage got out of the car gingerly and took a few minutes to clear his head before going inside.

Nina gave John a hug and Andy shook both men's hands.

"You're looking so much better, Johnny," Nina said. The rich tones of brown in his eyes was finally visible and there was even a small twinkle like Jenny had described to her when she and Chris stayed the night so Roy and Joanne could go out.

John bowed his head shyly, something new that Roy discovered about him since the accident. John looked around. He remembered being here, the furniture, the bedroom down the hall, the stables he could see from his bedroom window.

"Um, Andy? I know we just got here and-and all but do you think I could see Strayboy? It was really nice of you to take him in. I'll pay for his stable fees and move 'im out as soon as I can."

The sentence came out all as one big blurb and Andy's eyes opened wide in concentration of the fast flurry of words.

"Sure. And John, don't worry about stable fees and all that stuff. Strayboy's got a place to stay as long as you need."

"Thanks," John said sincerely as he followed Andy outside.

Roy, Nina and the kids followed.

Strayboy whinnied in recognition and his front hooves pawed the ground. Everyone fell back to allow John to enter the stable first.

John put his forehead on Strayboy's warm, soft muzzle feeling the hot breath on his chest as the horse nuzzled in further gently butting John under the chin.

Roy watched the boy and his horse. John said something in a whispered, almost song-filled voice. It wasn't English. The horse drew back; it's huge chocolate eyes inspecting his boy. After a few moments of semi-private reunion, John motioned for Roy and the kids to come meet his friend.

Strayboy bowed into a lower stance, his long front legs splayed slightly. It was then evident the abuse the horse had suffered in its life. Strayboy's front hooves were not shoed, having fallen into neglect from lack of trimming with his former owners and the stockyard.

John saw Roy's questioning gaze.

"I've been working on his hooves. When a horse is left for so long without getting his hooves trimmed and no exercise to wear 'em down, they overgrow and damage the legs. You have to trim them slowly and hope the legs heal. So far, with Strayboy it's working. He can almost stand straight now," Gage said proudly, noting that at least the stables had continued to slowly work on Strayboy's hooves in his absence and he must have been brushed since arriving at Nina and Andy's because there wasn't a bramble or stick of grass in his coat.

Jen looked up, way up.

"Uncle Johnny, Strayboy has a bald spot," she whispered as if Strayboy would be offended if he heard her.

John took in the still bare area on his horse's neck that ringed all the way around. Roy could deduce what that was from.

"Um, Jelly Bean, Strayboy isn't a show horse or anything, so he'll be okay with those marks, they don't hurt 'im anymore …" John said uncertainly and Roy swallowed hard watching as John put his hand to his own chest for a minute and seemed to think about what he was going to say next.

"But why is he bald there, Uncle Johnny and he has stripes just like that on his … what's a horse's butt called again?"

"Flank," Gage laughed. "A horse's butt is called a flank. And … Well, see Jelly Bean, someone was-wasn't very nice to Strayboy before I got 'im. They hurt him. Badly."

"Why would anyone do that, Uncle Johnny?" Chris asked, his eyes round as saucers and looking sad and angry at the same time.

"I dunno. He's a good horse. Sometimes people are just …"

"Flanks," Jenny said, her hand on her hips as everyone burst out laughing.

"Yeah, horses behinds," John agreed.

John opened the gate one-handed and gave a command no one recognized as English. Strayboy stepped from his stall a little stiffly.

"He'll feel better after he walks for a bit," John explained.

"Can we ride him?" Jenny asked as Chris looked up hopefully too.

"Well, yeah, I suppose you and Chris could ride 'im but adults are too big for him until his feet heal to normal and he's shoed properly. That's gonna take awhile. Let's walk 'im around a bit and let him stretch out first, though. Here, why don't you take the reins?"

Jenny took the reins, taking turns with Chris as John showed them how to lead Strayboy in different directions. After a few moments, Strayboy's gait lengthened and he seemed to be trying to show off as best as he could, even trying to trot a bit.

Desoto could see the lure the young horse had. Strayboy was John's kin in spirit, beaten down and left only to rise and defy all odds. Roy couldn't actually regret telling John not to buy a horse as he'd done many times over the years but hindsight is twenty twenty and if he knew then what a profound affect an animal could have on John he'd have bought Strayboy for John himself.

They stopped and let Strayboy drink and stretch and John told the kids they could now attempt to ride him. Roy hesitated a bit putting Jen up on the large animal.

"Be careful, honey. Remember, Strayboy's been abused so he could be a little dangerous," Roy said, looking a tad nervous placing the little girl on the soft saddle that Strayboy had allowed Andy to place on his back.

Roy missed Johnny's eyes snapping closed and the pained look that crossed his pointed features. He trusted Strayboy. It hadn't occurred to him that Roy could be right. Strayboy had never kicked even on the first day he was freed from the horrors of the stockyard. The horse had endured stinging sessions of wound cleaning and tender feet under grossly misshapen hooves. Gage remembered carefully cutting away the embedded rope from around the horse's neck and how Strayboy had laid down after that and he was afraid the horse would die despite his best efforts. Other then when John was injured at work, that was the only day he missed from work in four years. That night he'd slept in Strayboy's stable, his head resting on the horses long neck. He'd awoken to two very large eyes staring into his eyes and some really gross horse spit as Strayboy licked the salty sweat from his face.

Still, what right did he have to assume that Strayboy would be okay with kids? He really had no idea where Strayboy came from originally.

Roy was about to let go of Strayboy's reins. The horse and kids seemed comfortable and Strayboy's strides stayed steady but Gage stopped him.

John gritted his teeth slightly in worry and cut the walk short, asking Roy to take them down from Strayboy's back. Strayboy seemed as disappointed with that turn of events as the children.

Not knowing much about horses, Roy did as John asked but Nina and Andy exchanged significant glances. Strayboy was led back to his stable and John once again put his forehead on the horse's muzzle as the rest of the small group stepped outside so Andy could point out some more interesting amenities.

"Sorry, Strayboy. I trust you. I just forgot that for you an' me, things are different. We're probably not quite right, you know? Damaged. Not really trusted…"

Strayboy looked at his boy. The tears that leaked from his eyes were salty and delicious but the look they put there triggered alarm in him and made him want to scoop his master up and take off running and never stop.

John breathed a few fresh breaths, composed himself and went in search of the others.

"That was fun, Uncle Johnny, when can we do it again?" Chris asked.

"Oh, uh, um I don't think that would be a good idea," John said evasively.

_…Slap on the wrist but can he be trusted?_

"Why not? Did we hurt him?"

"No, sport, no, you didn't hurt 'im. No. Um, I just don't think he's the sort of horse kids should be around I guess."

Something in the way John said those words caused a cold sensation to slip into Roy's stomach. He knew something had changed since they got here.

When the kids went inside for lunch after acting as tour guides to Roy and John, Roy lingered outside and called to John.

"Junior, you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Gage did his best to put on that fake smile he reserved for picking up documents to sign at HQ and for people on the street who asked inappropriate questions when they met up with him after reading about him in the papers. Roy marvelled at how good the boy was at it. His lips turned up in that familiar crooked way, sure, but his eyes, they didn't crinkle slightly at the corner making the movements synch into a smile that was contagious and genuine.

"Because you were all fired up about taking Jenn and Chris for a horse ride and then you cut them off after five minutes."

"Oh!" Gage seemed relieved that was all Roy seemed worried about. "Don't worry about that. As soon as the braces come off and I get my money from my trust I'll arrange for Chris and Jen to go riding at the commercial equestrian stables. Those horses were bred for riding and are broken … and not so …"

"…Damaged?" Roy finished slapping his hand to his forehead. He wanted to punch himself for what his concern for Jen must have sounded like to John.

"Look, Johnny, I trusted Strayboy or I wouldn't have let the kids ride 'im. I said I trust _you_. You wouldn't have let the kids ride him if he wasn't safe."

"That's the thing, Roy. I let the kids ride Strayboy. I don't know his background. All I know is how I feel when I'm around him. He's never once bucked or kicked or shown aggression but you were right. What was I thinking! He's been abused. He can't possibly be normal. He shouldn't be around kids. I…"

Roy's eyes grew wide in suspicion.

"Okay, out with it Gage. What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

Roy only used his surname when he wasn't willing to let something go. Something had fallen into place for John today only it wasn't the right place and Roy knew it.

John sat down at the edge of the irrigation ditch, drawing his knees up tight to his braced chest and folding his good hand over his cast. Roy sat down beside him, silent, waiting.

"I don't know how to say this to you, Roy. I wasn't gonna say anything. I thought he was wrong but now, knowing how you felt about the kids with Strayboy…"

"Honestly, it was a momentary lapse in judgement. I trusted Strayboy, but trust me for once; when you become a dad you'll understand the crazy things that go on inside a parent's head. God, we worry about kids choking on soup, Junior and how many calls have we had for that sort of thing?"

Gage gave Roy a watery smile.

"I under-understand, Roy, and I'm sorry. I understand."

"You still haven't told me what took you from cloud nine to almost nine feet under in ten seconds. Come on, tell Pally what's on your mind."

"Not exactly ten seconds," John admitted. "More like ten sessions. You know how Jo's been driving me to my mandatory psych appointments at Rampart so I can pass whatever, I dunno, tests they throw at me to get my job back?"

"Yeah…" Roy said hesitantly, not liking how this was sounding one bit. He warned Brackett that John wouldn't do well with shrinks and he had a feeling he'd been right.

"I don't think I'm passin' the tests…"

"What do you mean?" Roy stood up, pacing.

"Dr. Fenwick says people who are abused as kids probably shouldn't have kids or be a-around kids much 'cause we lack good examples and perpetuate a cycle of abuse without end. He's even written books on it."

"HE DID WHAT!"

John flinched and ducked momentarily out of habit. He tried not to but it was yet another point Dr. Fenwick had made about conditioning of the abused child.

"Sorry!" Gage said again and the automatic sound made Roy flinch in return.

Roy calmed himself. He had to. Instead of instilling confidence in the broken boy, this doctor had been tearing strips out of him. All the building John did in the last four years was crumbling brick by brick until he was raw and left not trusting himself.

_Yeah, four months of probation when and if he gets his job back, slap on the wrist, right. No kids or family of his own, shackles that he will wear for the rest of his life,_ Roy thought angrily.

Roy wondered how he could have missed this but life had to go on during John's recuperation. Roy had gone back to work so he missed the subtle changes that happened over the last few weeks since John started seeing Dr. Fenwick on mandatory stipulation from HQ.

Jo told Roy a few things that had changed while he worked but he always reassured her that whatever it was was likely due to John's fatigue or pain.

Jo told him last week that John stopped playing Barbie with Jenn or building airplanes with Chris. He retreated largely to his bed with the rulebook Brice had given him. When Nurse Clary asked John when he was going to be able to resume his visits in the paediatric ward, he told her that he was too busy. Roy knew as a fact that even when Gage was hit by a car, he still found the strength and time to visit the children who he entertained with stories and legends he remembered from his own mom and dad.

Clary was assigned as visiting nurse to John now that Roy had to work and for the first few weeks, the two seemed to really have hit it off, John teasing her about her first name, which was Mary. But after a few sessions with Fenwick, John went back to formally addressing her as Nurse Clary instead of sing songing _Mareee Clareee_ to her and waiting for her giggles. He became compliant and straightforward with no usual jokes or budding friendship evident. All of this Roy had assured his wife was probably just normal.

And it was so far from normal, Roy doubted he could see normal if it came up and bit him on the … _flank_ right now.

"You know Fenwick's wrong? … right?"

"At first I-I thought he was," Gage said, watching the sun pass overhead.

"He's wrong, Junior! You're great with kids. They love you."

"I-I loved my stepfather too be-before my mom died and he showed his t-true colors," Gage confessed as if that should explain everything and make Roy see what Fenwick saw in him and all abused kids.

This was messed up five ways to Sunday and for once, Roy couldn't fix it. Big strong paramedic could set broken bones, restart a still heart, fill flat lungs with life giving oxygen, but he had no clue how to fix this. And what was worse? Roy felt that John had held out a little bit until he'd expressed his concern over Strayboy's temperament due to his upbringing.

The air changed and became colder. Roy helped John up and took him inside to get warm. Jen ran to him to give him a hug. He stiffly patted her head with his palm but didn't bend to her level like he usually did. Jen sat back down on the couch with a disappointed look on her little face. Sure, he still called her Jelly Bean but it sounded different now.

Lunch was delicious and John ate everything on his plate. Trouble was, he seemed not to taste anything, simply put the food in so he could gain his weight and strength back and go back to work. It was evident that in almost every way, John was simply going through the motions.

XXXX

Dixie McCall paid a visit to the Desoto's house that night. She hoped to see Johnny but they weren't back from the vineyard yet so she and Joanne had coffee and talked. Both women were convinced that the way John was acting had a direct link to Dr. Fenwick.

"I wish there was something we could do," Joanne said.

"Well, Kel tried to get John to wait for another doctor to become available but John wanted the sessions over with. I can't say as I blame him but Fenwick is fond of making generalities and writing books based on those generalities instead of seeing the whole person or so Kel says. Personally I've never cared for Fenwick's demeanour the few times I've see him with a patient when he's been on call in Emergency."

Roy's car pulled in the driveway and Dix and Jo greeted the tired family. John had fallen asleep in the car and woke stiff and sore. Roy helped him sit on the couch and went to draw him a hot bath.

John was reluctant to talk about the day.

"Um, Strayboy's … doing okay, I guess," he answered when Joanne asked.

Jo frowned at Dixie as Gage trudged off to his bath. Whenever the young paramedic talked about his horse before tonight, he was bubbling with enthusiasm and one couldn't help but think that Strayboy might as well be an Arabian Stallion.

John sighed in deep frustration when Roy waited outside the bathroom door until he confirmed that he was safely sitting down in the tub and reminded him not to get his cast wet.

Roy made his way back to the living room and sat heavily on the sofa. Joanne poured him a cup of coffee while the kids went upstairs to get ready for their baths.

"What happened with Johnny today, Roy?" Joanne asked. " I thought going out to see his horse would cheer him up."

"I happened to him, Jo," Roy sighed. Joanne put her hand on the back of Roy's neck and gently massaged, encouraging him to go on. Roy told Dixie and Joanne what happened with Strayboy and how John took things.

"I'm sure Johnny understood where you were coming from, honey. It wasn't your fault," Joanne said.

"No, not really it wasn't. It was that Doctor Fenwick he's been seeing," Roy said, anger evident in his tone. "He's got John convinced that he shouldn't have kids. Told him that people who are abused as kids always abuse their kids and John admitted that's why he's stopped spending time with Chris and Jen so much and going up to the paediatric ward to see the kids."

Dixie was livid. She opened and closed her mouth several times before standing up and marching straight into the Desoto's bathroom.

Dixie flung a towel into the tub for John and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. The invasion had the desired side affect of rendering John speechless and also prevented him from leaving before Dixie could say what she had to say.

John Gage, you will listen to me. Doctor Fenwick is wrong, that's why Kel tried to prevent you from getting him in the first place. We knew he was no good, but we didn't know he was … bad. You _will_ have children. You _will _be a wonderful father. You will _not_ disappoint those kids in Paediatrics whose only joy is people like you coming in to take their minds off of their pain. I have been looking after you since you were seventeen years old. You're a good boy. Man. Whatever."

Dixie looked mad enough to kick something. For a minute John figured she just might. A little flame of hope ignited in his chest. Dixie was a strong woman, a good nurse and a trusted friend. She saw something different when she looked at him, something that Roy and Jo seemed to see too. Maybe Fenwick was wrong but either way, John needed a signature for duty by a psychiatrist and he was too tired to try again. Once pierced through the heart twice shy.

Roy saved John from his rather sudden bath buddy and Dixie went off to phone Dr. Brackett. Roy tossed John another towel and John stood on shaky legs to get out of the tub. The water had gone cold long ago as Dixie finished her indignant tirade on his behalf and recited approximately sixty-five very creative areas of the body that Dr. Fenwick could shove his theories. As a nurse, she was well qualified to figure out where they'd fit too.

Johns' head drooped to his chest. Roy wrapped the towel around him firmly and stooped to gather his dirty clothes from the bathroom floor. He accidentally stepped on Gage's jeans and something in his pocket crunched beneath his feet.

Gage sat on the edge of the tub, defeated as Roy reached down to find out what he'd broken. His hand came away from the jeans with a handful of little blue pills and thin shards of clear glass with a torn prescription label sticking to it. Roy read the name of the pills.

Roy became instantly alarmed when he thought about the pain medications John was already on and their interaction with the medicine he held in his hand.

"John, you know these are downers? They don't go with your pain meds Brackett has you on. Tell me you haven't been taking these?"

"I'm n-not taking them any-anymore. I only took 'em for two weeks and then I remembered the drug interactions. I tried to tell F-Fenwick that these cause side effects with what Brackett has me on but he told me it would be okay as an exception. I was too scared to keep t-taking them though. They-they made me feel … they made me _not _feel."

"So you haven't taken any of these for a week?" Roy clarified, calling Dixie back into the room.

"No. But Roy, Fenwick makes me take …urine tests. He'll know I'm not taking 'em. He'll never let me come back to work. Said I wouldn't talk en-enough without the pills."

"No, Junior, you did the right thing. I'm just glad you remembered our training about drugs before … Look, I know things look bad right now, but HQ only said you had to be passed by a psychiatrist, and you have the right to see a different one."

"What if they all say the same thing?"

"Johnny, it's easier to believe the bad stuff than the good. Fenwick's wrong. He's clearly got an agenda or more likely a book contract that's due knowing that man's reputation. I'm just sorry you were his last victim."

"Prob-probably not the last," John said sadly, remembering the girl who'd run out of his office sobbing.

"Yeah, the last. Wait 'til Brackett hears that Fenwick had you on downers."

"Brackett's gonna be mad at _me_ then."

"Nah, he won't. He knows your memory wasn't what it should have been with your post concussion syndrome when Fenwick prescribed those other meds, besides Fenwick's a doctor, he knows better. We're just lucky you got off of them."

Dixie stuck her head in the door, clearly embarrassed now that she was calmed down that she'd burst into the young man's bath earlier. Roy explained what John told him and asked Dixie to call Dr. Brackett back to tell him about the drugs.

Roy was proud of his partner. It would have been easy through everything he'd gone through to take the drugs that as he admitted, made him not feel. As he helped John to his feet again and walked him down the hall and helped him into some flannel night pants and a tee shirt Roy tried to keep his fury at Fenwick from showing. John was exhausted and didn't need anything else to think about right now. John fell asleep almost instantly as Roy draped a warm blanket over him and closed the blinds.

Dixie was still on the phone with Dr. Brackett. Roy wordlessly handed Dix the remaining downers Dr. Fenwick had prescribed Johnny and watched the fireworks begin. By Monday morning Fenwick would likely be put on leave.

Dr. Brackett made a house call to the Desoto's that night to check on John. Roy explained that John was worried the doc would be mad at him. Kel wasn't surprised. Clearly Fenwick had been trying to plant all kinds of garbage in John's head.

Kel woke John gently.

"Hey, doc," John said quietly, waiting for a tirade of how he should have handled things better. It didn't come.

"Hey yourself. I hear Fenwick's given you a rough time."

"I didn't know … I mean, the things he said, they're all things I've worried about myself. I mean, I don't really remember much of my real dad, so how will I be able to treat a kid right? And before I re-remembered about the pills, I was told to take 'em an hour before my appointments and they sorta hit hard by the time I laid in the bed in-in the office and I just kinda talked and he talked and the words just sorta sunk in."

"Bed?"

"Yeah he-he says it's no different than a couch … but it made me feel … but then the pills would make me not care and by the time Jo picked me up I was just really tired and wanted to go home."

Brackett examined John thoroughly. When he was finished he was confident that John hadn't been on the downers long enough to do any lasting physical damage but he now understood all the things John believed about himself. Fenwick had given John the drugs to make him sleepy and more receptive to his suggestions.

John still flinched slightly whenever his pupils were checked. Brackett noted the still slightly large pupils and fumed silently at how Fenwick used Gage's post concussion syndrome against him.

Brackett helped John back into his tee shirt, noting that his ribs stuck out just a little more. Sure, he'd taken the Hippocratic Oath but right now he wanted to do some serious harm to Fenwick. The downers had clearly caused a tad more weight loss that John could ill afford. John assured him that his appetite had picked up the minute he stopped taking them over a week ago and he promised to keep eating.

"Well, the drugs Fenwick had you on take approximately a week to leave your system so you should be clear of them but we'll draw some blood just to make sure. And John? I'm proud of you for remembering about the drugs and getting off of them. You did good."

John thrived on the praise and Brackett was gentle in reminding him to tell him about anything like this in the future.

Before Gage fell back asleep from the exhausting day, Brackett promised him he'd never have to see Fenwick again and he'd do all he could to make sure no one else had to undergo that brand of _treatment_ either.

XXXX

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Attention dear readers, this portion of the story will be done in first person points of view, meaning the characters will be the ones telling things from their own perspective. The name of the characters whose turn it is will be written above their scene. I hope you get a chuckle. This is where we lighten things up a bit and gear down toward the end.

XXXX

ROY:

Johnny has so far refused to see another shrink, not that I can blame him. Fenwick really did a number on him. He got his wrist cast off and has been back in his own apartment for three weeks and is … coping? Jennifer and Chris really miss him. Hell I miss him. He calls but he hasn't been over to visit. I've seen him of course, taking groceries over and what not because he's still not allowed to drive or cart heavy loads upstairs. I know he felt like he was a burden at home but the truth is he was no trouble at all.

Captain Stanley went to visit John last week. John's talking about leaving the department. For all his fighting to stay with us, it took one jerk to knock him off course. Cap hands me a pamphlet advertising a mental health retreat up in the mountains about a two-hour drive from L.A. He applied for all of us guys to go on a paid treatment there based on what our station's been through with the media attention and extra strains on top of the normal ones we're expected to face everyday. I suspect Chief Lancer had a hand in getting permission and funding for the trip and the three day retreat will be fully covered by our insurance but we won't be paid for it and it will have to be on our own weekend off.

Cap calls all the guys who agree to go. It's a testament to Johnny how much we all miss him and want him back where he belongs. The real test was getting Gage to agree but between Cap, myself and Joanne we convinced him to give it one more try. The three-day weekend qualifies as a full mental health evaluation and treatment. If he can get through it and get just one signature on that mental health form from HQ he can come home to fifty-one.

XXXX

BRICE:

What a long drive! Captain Stanley _suggested _that I come along with them to this retreat. The A shift I mean. This is stupid. _I _don't need a shrink. However in the interest of helping Gage out, I acquiesced. My room is decorated in psychedelic orange and brown swirls. I don't think I can sleep in here. I open the window despite the cold breeze and stare out into the serene mountains. It levels my head a bit.

Hell, this could even be interesting. I can only imagine what these men will make of the Rorschach tests. I pick up the pamphlet. Our first class is at eleven.

P.A.N.S.Y. People And New Sanity Younite! In bright orange lettering on the cover. This is stupid. Pansy, I mean really.

When I suggested we carpool here to save on gas no one took me up on it. I thought at first it was because they don't like me. No! I'm not paranoid and I don't need this retreat. I'm here for Gage. This is so stupid! Anyway I found out that the guys never carpooled because each one of them thinks that they'll be able to leave a bit early, having been declared saner than his fellows. Honestly, Chet is already starting to exhibit signs of wanting to be class pet. He never stopped yapping about how he already knows how to meditate from that time when Morton tried to put all of us on some stupid diet. And speaking of stupid, this is stupid.

I lay on my bed, horrified when automatic magic fingers start to rumble beneath my behind. I did not put a quarter in there! This is stupid. I'm relaxed. Honest. The bed settles and I stand up. I'm going to ask for a sensible mattress to go with my perfectly sensible body and mind. It's almost eleven. This is so stupid…

XXXX

MIKE STOKER:

Beth got the wrong idea when I told her that Cap asked us guys to go to a retreat to help Gage get his feelings out and get cleared for duty. She sent me with a list of issues I should try to discuss. In front of the guys! NOT! This is stupid. But I'll do it for Gage. But I'm not talking. No way. I wonder if we're getting overtime for this.

I brought my own car. Chet wanted to carpool. He seems enthusiastic about this retreat. He would. He loves fads. The pamphlet on my bed has a picture of dudes embracing. And hugging. Oh God, please tell me that there will be no hugs! I miss my wife…

MARCO LOPEZ:

This is loco. A retreat. Really? Seriously? My brothers and I usually settle issues with a bottle of tequila and a lot of praying to the porcelain god the next day followed by one of Mama Lopez's lectures and a homemade headache remedy. But then again none of us have ever had to deal with what Johnny's been through so I guess for him we can suck it up.

I sigh and lie down on the bed. I look up and scream. There's a mirror over my bed. This is loco.

Mike shoves his way into my room without knocking and I stand up quickly, tripping over my suitcase landing in his arms. His armload of … _camping equipment?_ Clatters to the floor.

"What's going on!" Mikes shouts, out of breath and still holding onto me looking for the source of danger.

"Ah, I thee you've already thstarted the extherthizes lithted on page thixthteen! Wonderful! Wonderful!" a man in a … a toga and floppy beach sandals says as he continues on down the hallway putting yet more pamphlets into little cloud shaped mailboxes outside each room.

Mike drops me on the floor. "You scream like a little girl, Lopez," he says, brushing himself off. "Now what was wrong?"

"That," I sheepishly, pointing up to the mirror above the bed I'm expected to sleep in all weekend. Three nights. In that bed. "I uh, was startled."

"Yeah, I'd be startled if I saw you in bed too," Mike said and turned on his heel and left.

"See you at eleven," I said, feeling rather foolish and put out.

This is loco.

CHET:

This is so great! I'll be able to help out the instructor. I'm practically an expert at meditation, even Dr. Morton said so and admired how I threw myself into the healthy lifestyle he tried to initiate at the station.

This will be good for the guys. Mike hardly ever talks unless spoken to. Roy can learn to be a better husband and not tick Joanne off about spaghetti recipes and such and Marco can … well, I can't say there's much wrong with Marco except he hasn't had a date in six months. Maybe the shrink here can help him out with techniques or something. Really, we're all here for John. I miss him. I won't tell anyone here that. Gotta keep up my reputation and all. Truth is, I miss my pigeon. We have to help heal Gage. I'm really sane and rational so I can help.

The pamphlet says that this is a real grassroots type of retreat. Guests even take turns cooking. Cool. I'm a great cook. I brought my famous chilli recipe. The guys will be so happy that they can have something comforting and familiar while they purge their minds and spirits like the brochure says. I brought extra chilli peppers too because according to the brochure cleansing in every way is good for you and good old hot chilli will cleanse well … anything. Cap'll be really pleased.

This is so great!

CAP:

My guys better behave. They better not embarrass me. This better not be a repeat of the last inspection with McKonikee … Mike better stop asking me if they're getting overtime for this.

This is stupid but it was the only way I could get Gage to agree to see a shrink again. I can't blame him. From what Roy told me, that Fenwick guy really messed with his head. Mike almost drove Big Red over to the guy's house and was prepared to give him a shower the hard way, 'cleanse his mind' Mike had said and the evil look in his eye was scary. For such a quiet guy, Mike's been rather … well still silent but deadly. Like a fart. Or something. He's been doing things and some he owns up to but others, he just grins slyly. I think he needs anger management, or more latrine duty. But then again, that's never done Chet any good. Hm, maybe Chet can benefit from this.

Well, maybe at least the food here won't suck. At least we won't have to eat Chet's chilli…

JOHNNY:

I'm not unpacking. No way. I got to drive my own vehicle for the first time yesterday and it felt great to drive up here into the mountains. I would have kept going on the rough gravel road on the last one mile here but Roy's car was right behind me and Stoker's pick up was right in front like they didn't trust me or something. This is stupid. They shouldn't trust me. Everything Fenwick said was true.

I have my camping gear in the back of my Rover in case I need to bolt. I covered it up under a blanket so Roy and Mike wouldn't see it. I swear he's been like a shadow on the walk up from the parking lot. Not that I'm paranoid. I don't need to be here. All the guys are humouring Cap. I mean, it's real nice of them to come here for me. It really is and I appreciate it but I'm broke. Humpty Dumpty. And I don't think there are enough horses and Kingsmen here to put me back together again.

With the money I finally got a few weeks ago from my parent's estate I have enough to put a down payment on a large ranch or pay for a small ranch entirely. I can just get a job to pay the taxes and utilities and such, I'll have no mortgage. I don't _need_ to be a fireman. I don't _need_ to be a paramedic…

_Cap did this for me. The guys did this for me. Not against me_, I keep telling myself. They don't understand though. I can't talk about it. I'll go through the motions here. I owe them that much and more. Hell I owe them my life. In the end though, it'll be best if I just leave the department.

This is just …

ROY :

Gage has his camping equipment with him. Stoker's already jimmied the lock on his Rover and stole it out of there so he can't bolt. John would have to get up pretty early to fool me. I know him.

John'll leave his clothes in his suitcase. They'll get all wrinkly and Brice's hands will twitch toward him the whole weekend like he wants to take him clothes and all and iron him out. Well, if anything this weekend might help Brice get over his stuffiness. I hear we have to wear togas to the meeting on Saturday. Brice will have a heart attack.

I turn to hang my clothes in the little closet. There's the toga. It's small. Real small. This is so stupid. I don't have the body for a toga. Now Gage, he could pull this off … oh my god, I better keep my mouth closed. I _do not_ have body issues. Joanne says I'm perfect the way I am.

There's a knock on my door. I put the offending garment back in the closet hastily and open it.

"Hey, Desoto, did you see these great new age togas we get to wear to the meetings. It'll be great to just let it all hang out and have no restrictions, you know, just let _it_ hang."

He did not just say what I think he did, did he?

"What do you mean, Chet?" I ask, cringing.

"Well, you know, no you wouldn't know. I studied ancient Greek culture, we aren't supposed to wear any underwear under these babies."

"That's Scottish culture Chet. I'm pretty sure you're talking about a kilt, not a toga."

"Aww man! Kiljoy," Chet moans, stomping back toward his room.

Just before I close my door, trying to knock the mental picture of Chet in a toga out of my head I hear yet another screech. Before I can even move toward the source of the noise, Brice's room I think, Mike dashes out of his room and flies into Brice's room.

"What's wrong!" Mike says scanning the room.

Brice holds up the toga.

"You and Marco both scream like little girls," Mike laments shaking his head and heading back to his room.

Boy, Mike is really on edge. Nervous even. He's not even that quick when we get a call on the Klaxons in the middle of the night. Hm, maybe Mike can benefit from this retreat too, this might not be as stupid as I thought.

Brice's room door stays open and I see through the crack. Brice is having some internal breakdown. He holds the iron, as if trying to decide where to begin ironing the stupid thing.

"Um, I do not scream like a little girl, Stoker," Brice says to Mike's retreating back. "It's just that I rash easily." He closes his door still eyeing the toga like it might bite him.

Well, if this helps Johnny it'll be worth it. Besides, how bad can it be? _Don't answer that._

XXXX

ROY:

We make our way down the hall at eleven O'clock, shoulders bumping in the smallish hallways. I look back and I can tell Stoker's doing mental math to calculate if these walls are up to code in size. I shake my head. Chet's already wearing the toga. And there's no panty lines … er … underwear lines. Whatever. Gross. We don't' have to start wearing those until tomorrow. Show off. I'm not sitting near him.

MARCO:

"Looking good, amigo," I say to Chet slapping him on the back. I have to encourage him to act like an idiot because if he does, it'll take all the focus off me … I mean us. You know, so we won't have to participate in some weird handholding, candle-lighting, hugging crap like in the brochure. Chet's ten kinds 'a crazy. He'll be lucky not to be committed here before the weekend's out. They don't commit people here do they?

CHET:

I think Roy has body issues. He keeps staring at me in my toga like he's jealous or something. He shouldn't be. I think Joanne loves him just the way he is. Hell, I don't even have a girlfriend yet. It's okay if he lets himself go a bit, he's married. It's guys like Marco, John and I who have to worry about our physiques. Roy, Cap and Mike have it made in the shade, they're married already. Hey maybe this guru guy or whatever it is can give us some pointers on how to land a dame.

STOKER:

I don't think these hallways are regulation. I think I should likely sit out this session and do an inspection. I look to Cap, inclining my head just a little to indicate that he should be paying attention to what I seem to be the only guy noticing. But he doesn't notice. Tell me, what is the good of these sessions if we're all going to burn to death in the night? Hm, I wonder if those smoke detectors have batteries in them. Maybe I should check them all and just miss the first session.

CAP:

"Yes, Michael, this place is regulation, the hallways are standard width, the smoke detectors have batteries in them, see the blinking lights? No, you can't miss the first session to check the place out. I know you're a newlywed and you miss Beth but this has to stop."

"Chet, get back to your room and at least put some underwear on under that stupid getup you have on."

"Marco, stop encouraging Chet to act a fool so you won't have to participate, it won't work."

"Brice, stop staring at Gage's wrinkled clothing and trying to figure out how this will benefit the others for your good. Concentrate on being here for you too. None of us are perfect."

"Roy, tell Stoker to give Gage back his camping equipment he stole from his Rover. Gage has to want to be here and you can't stop him if he doesn't want to be. This has to be his decision."

"Gage, stow your camping equipment back in your Rover. Unpack your clothing from your suitcase and stay awhile."

"Men, listen up. We're going to be a family again."

Gage can't leave I took his sparkplugs. I just wanted him to think he had freedom. If he tries to leave we'll drag him back kicking and screaming. One great big dysfunctional family, the way we've always been.

"Now, get in there and participate. And don't embarrass me."

JOHN:

Scary how well Cap knows us! I feel like we've just gone under inspection. I took Cap's keys. Insubordinate? Maybe. But he took my sparkplugs and if I need a way out, I'm taking his car. This is unbelievable. I bend just a little to peak into the room and I'm suddenly shoved inside. I turn to squawk at whoever pushed me but my shift mates all stand there innocent.

I knew it, chairs with nametags. Chet hip-checks Marco out of the chair he was assigned and switches nametags to sit next to the chair marked 'facilitator'. Be my guest man, get facilitated. I'll watch, thanks. I'm not participating.

There are a couple of names on other empty chairs but the circle is so tight that even though those people haven't yet arrived our knees touch. This is stupid.

A short blonde woman with a hairnet on arrives and sits in the chair marked 'Doris'. Oh no! It's the lunch lady from downstairs. And she probably knows I stole some chips to munch later. And some salt for my camping gear for when I go fishing when I leave early. She's staring at me. Oh come on, it was just chips and salt. This place is expensive and lunch was all you can eat. I just couldn't eat much at the time so I took some for later…

_Stop looking at me, lady_. Man this is unnerving.

The leader of our little torture session, Hollis Hanklesphinkter stands before us looking the picture of normalcy, _not! _He's wearing glasses without lenses, a short, butter mellow colored toga, beach sandals with black socks and has long, unruly, salt and pepper hair.

"Good morning everyone. I'm your fathilitator, Hollith Hanklthsphinkter," he lisps excitedly.

I'm mesmerized watching Hanklesphinkter rub his eye right through the missing lenses of his glasses and I fail to reach for the papers he's handing out. Lunch Lady Doris stands up.

"Everyone listen to Mr. Hanklesphinkter. He is here to help you stop doing whatever it is you are doing … like stealing?" She turns and eyeballs me.

"Thank you, Doristh, that will be all."

Doris sits down and all eyes to turn our … fearless facilitator. Hankelsphinkter flaps around the room, literally, smiling kindly down at all of us, his beach sandals spanking annoyingly against his feet with each step.

THWUMP! THWUMP! THWUMP! THWAMP!

"Thisth program is what you could call me 'inner child'. It'th the accumulathion of thirty yearths of my life'th practith. Here you will learn to come to termths with the beatht that lurkths inthide. Ath a group we will meld our rage, our fearth, embrath our patht and heal together," he says as he interlocks his fingers and holds them over his head.

As he speaks he becomes more impassioned and I hope he hyperventilates or something. His sandals slap like exclamation points at the ends of his sentences. "Anger isth really FEAR thspelled backwardth. R.E.A.F. ReEmbrathe Attacking Fear. It'th the key to unlocking your inner child, reconnecting to inner peathe and achieving harmony in your daily life." THWUMP! "REAF thstandth for what you and your healing partner will be doing."

"ReEmbrathe Attacking Fear! Let'ths thay it ath a collective group, thall we?"

No one does. Cap glares at us.

"Re-embrathing Attacking Fear," I lisp along with everyone else. Hanklesphinkter didn't seem to notice. Cap glares at us again. He looks mad.

"Yeth, very well done, now let me hear your real voicth. I want to fell your anger and your fear. Thisth ith a thafe plathe for you to let out your emothions."

Chet, Lunch Lady Doris and a few other people who I think are couples or something let loose. The rest of us remain quiet. Cap glares again until we're all breathless from yelling the slogan.

"That'th right. Let it all out."

"You stole from the cafeteria!" Lunch Lady Doris yells at me before Hanklesphinkter who tells her something like my soul must have been hungry or something subdues her. She's momentarily placated. Boy, this guy's good. That woman is nuts.

"Now, Doristh, you are here for free becauth you are an employee theeking to overcome thertain … tendanthies. You musthn't go accuthing our guesth of thstealing. Chipsth are free, just like the universth. Now, go to the happy corner and repeat that mantra my dear. Chipth are free, chipth are free, that'th right."

Doris retreats to a corner like a chastised pitbull. For now. She still glares at me when Hanklesphinkter isn't looking.

Stoker's making the strangest face as the couples continue to shout out the mantra, encouraged by Hanklesphinkter. He looks like he wants to take Doris' hairnet off and stuff it in her mouth as she chants 'chips are free, chips are free'. _For the love of god man do it and put us all out of our misery. _

XXXX

STOKER:

The chanting has stopped. Thank God. Cap wanted us to participate but my throat's sore from all the chanting already and we've only been here for ten minutes. I slap Gage on the back lightly and he finally takes the paper Hollis Handyspinner or whatever his name is has been trying to hand him since the beginning of our session.

It looks like all of the papers have been smeared with ink, like the copier they were printed on went crazy from having to be here or something. I think I'll go crazy here too. I miss Beth. We've only been married for two months. I'm not done … appreciating her.

I'm staring at my paper like all the other guys. Chet's already put his hand up to helpfully point out that the papers are damaged. He looks like a smacked puppy when Doris berates him for insulting one of the finest shrinks of all time, Dr. Rorschach.

Ohhhhh! I get it.

"Now, Doristh, we've talked about thisth. If Misthter Kelly thees thpilled ink, than he ith entitled to his opinion."

"Mr. Thstoker, what do you thee on your ink bloths?"

Did he just call me? I must be Thstoker … no one else with a name like that. Okay.

"Um," I look down to my paper. This is stupid. I should be home with Beth curled up on the couch, the floor, the bed, the backseat, the dining room table…

My paper has two blobs on it, sort of smooshed together. Makes me miss Beth. I _cannot _tell them what I see in my inkblots!

"Uh, mountains?" I say lamely.

"Yesth, I can thee where you would thee mountainth, Misthter Thstoker. You are familiar I am athuming with the song 'Mountainth of love by the Beatlths?"

"Yeah…"

"Ah yesth, than that is well, mountainth of love." He looks at my inkblots. "My regardths to your wife. You thould be very happy together."

I think Chet just herniated. He's rolling on the floor laughing at me.

XXXX

MARCO:

I'm hungry. It was a long drive up here. I should have taken some chips from the cafeteria like Gage did, but I don't envy him having to put up with the glaring from that weird lunchroom woman. My stomach growls loudly. I squirm in discomfort.

"Don't worry man, tomorrow I'm gonna volunteer to make chilli. I brought extra Jalapenos for you," Chet says.

I don't know how to tell Chet that I don't like his chilli. John just usually goes and makes himself a peanut butter sandwich or something when Chet makes chilli but Chet's my good amigo and I don't want to hurt his feelings. What do I see in my inkblots? Guilt! Chilli spilled all over and cap calling for pizza instead.

"Um, I see … mountains?" I say lamely. So sue me, I copied Stoker. He's one of the sanest people I know. I can't go wrong with that, can I?

I smile over at Stoker. He glares at me. What did I do?

"Mister Thstoker, I assthure you, one man's mountains are not necessarily another mansth hills. I'm thsure that Misther Lopez thees different mountainths than you did. Moving on."

Stoker looks placated but shoots me one last glare. He could really use some anger management. Or something. I knew he shouldn't have come on this retreat. He's a newlywed for Pete's sake, he should be home appreciating his wife.

XXXX

CHET:

This material itches. I think I'm getting a rash. No, I'm not asking Gage or Desoto for some cream. No way. This material feels like sandpaper. How can I relax wearing something that feels like a burlap sack and speaking of sacks, mine's gotta be getting …

"Chester, stop squirming and tell the man what you see in your inkblots," Cap nudges me impatiently. Apparently Hollis Anklespanker or whatever his name is has been trying to get my attention.

I look down at my inkblots. It's easy. I'm good at this. Mountains, bah, what were those guys talking about.

"This is clearly Egyptian cotton boxer shorts that have been line-dried in the sun on a mountain of spring flowers that can caress your…"

Why is Mike glaring at me like that? What, can't a guy see a mountain in the background of his boxer shorts? I think he just muttered something like 'those are _my_ mountains and you need to keep your filthy boxers away from them!' Wow, Mike is really high-strung. I'm glad he came on this retreat. His new wife will thank us for this.

ROY:

Chet's really uncomfortable here. For a guy who bragged about being a natural in a place like this, he's really fumbling. Doris is mad at him for scratching his back on the lunch cart in the corner. She's polishing it with her sleeve as we speak, the metal gleaming as the Jello in the cups jiggles from the manic force. _Note to self, don't eat the Jello._

I can't even look at my inkblots for the mesmerizing Jello; like little mountains of erupting snot. Gross.

"I see green wet mountains," I say automatically as Handlesmessiah or whatever his name is comes near and peers over my shoulder to my inkblots.

"Hey, Desoto has a thing for the green women and Star Trek!" Chet says, laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, Chester B, laugh it up, you won't be laughing so hard when I deny you cream from the med kit."

Chet gives up but Stoker's glaring at me. I said green mountains. At least I didn't copy him totally like the other guys did. Cheesh, what's his problem?

Stoker gives me a belated smile and leans over slightly.

"I know how it is, Roy, us married guys have to stick together. I can't say I've never thought about the green ones in that show too." He winks at me and seems contented.

BRICE:

I can see why the lunch lady wouldn't want smudges all over her polished chrome cart. I'd hate that too. And the chips. She probably had precisely the right amount statistically for the guests and then Gage had to go and take one for later. That would make me mad too. I bet an organized woman like that would have a really good iron, not like the ones provided in the guest rooms. I wonder if she'd lend me her iron. I could iron out the wrinkles in that toga and make the material softer so I won't rash up like Chet must be doing. Rashes are gross.

I'm kind of proud of myself. I don't see any mountains. Or boxer shorts. Or green snot. I'm normal.

I look across at Doris. She's rather loud, but she's so perfectly put together. Her hairnet falls exactly one centimetre down from her hairline like it's supposed to in the rulebook for cooks. I mean, not that I read rulebooks for fun or anything, it's just a piece of trivia I picked up somewhere. Honest. I'm not a square.

I look straight at Doris again.

"I see a perfectly ordered meal cart, shiny and with exactly the right amount of everything, calculated based on statistical probability of how many people like coleslaw and how many will opt for potato salad."

JOHN:

I think Brice is in love with Doris. Gross. Please God, don't let them have kids if they get together. I don't think they could. Kids are messy. They can't handle mess.

And people think _I'm_ nuts? Mountains? Really? Nah. I can't help but think of Nurse Clary when I look at my inkblots though…

"These aren't mountains," I say, pointing out all the glass walls around us that lead to _actual mountains _stone and green. "These," I say pointing to the inkblots are … well, um th-they're… Never mind."

Hanklesphinkter leans over and tells me I can discuss my discovery in our private _'thession.' _

Yeah, I have a private session too. Like that's fair. The more I see of the guys away from the station the more I think they can benefit from this more than me.

Doris puts her hand up as soon as Hanklespinkter lets me off the hook on the inkblot tests.

"Oh, oh pick me, pick me. I want to tell what I see in my inkblots! Pick me!"

Hollis nods at the woman who's practically jumping from her seat with one hand in the air like we're in school and she has to go pee and the other arm still wiping down the lunch cart from where Chet made like a bear and scratched his back on it.

"I see stolen chips. See, the two smooth round mounds, kind of like mountains with stolen salt on them that you could lick off like the rim of a good martini? I could use a martini right now," Doris said staring right at Brice.

Mike gasps, swallows convulsively and takes a sip of his water. I think he threw up in his mouth a little or something. What is it with him and mountains?

I'm beginning to think I'm the sanest person here!

CAP:

I'm beginning to think Gage is the sanest person here. Seems most of my guys have issues. Except for me of course.

Poor Mike's so … let's just say, _lonely_ and leave it at that shall we? I mean really, mountains? Those were clearly women's … um … well you get the idea. I think even Gage could see that and he's clearly a virgin.

Chet's starting to sweat. If he wiggles around anymore he's going to end up on the floor. I told him to wear underwear under that rag. And who'du thunk Desoto is a Star Trek fan. I wonder if his wife knows about the green women? And Marco really should just tell Chet that he doesn't like his chilli. For all of us. Put us out of our misery.

My inkblots are dirty fire engines, mud everywhere with a tiny little chief staring at me as I shrink away. Hm, maybe I did need this long weekend away more than I thought…

I don't want to draw Mike's ire. Whatever he has against mountains can be his little secret.

"I see fuzzy bunny feet," I say lamely. Well they could be fuzzy bunny feet…

The other couples really dug deep to see what they saw in their inkblots. One guy saw his wife selling all of his fishing lures and one of the women saw her husband _admiring _his secretary. Huh, maybe the guys and I are sane after all. At least we only see mountains.

It's lunchtime. Thank god.

XXXX

STOKER:

Whew! It's lunchtime. All that talk about mountains was making me…

Anyway, I'm famished and sort of grossed out having to listen to Chet's belly rumble like he's starving. I reach toward the temperature-controlled cart to pull out a roast beef sandwich on rye and feel a sharp sting on my hand.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

"Mister Stoker, we wear hairnets at all times when we approach the lunch trolley," the lunch lady says holding out a hairnet to me.

I am _not_ wearing that!

Chet grabs the proffered little net and shoves it on his head and strides toward the cart like a man on a mission.

"Do not scratch any of your body parts on the cart. And mind do not sneeze around the food, do not stoop below the Plexiglas shield. Do not…"

Before Lunch Lady Doris can continue, Chet's shoved an entire turkey on whole wheat into his mouth, mayonnaise dripping from his moustache. She mutters to Brice that she will have to make him wear a moustache net next time he approaches the cart and Brice smiles indulgently at her.

John thinks no one's watching when he slides out the glass door leading to the scenic forest and the parking lot. There's a collective sigh of relief when he doesn't approach the cars. We know and John knows that no shrink will be able to really make his past go away but I hope in a way that John gets more out of his private session than he's getting here with us. All he has to do is make it through this weekend without quitting and get the signature on the dotted line to come back and be with us again. And what a signature it will be, Hollis Hanklesphinkter, I mean with a name like that I'm surprised the guy's a shrink, he should _need_ a shrink.

Roy puts on a hairnet and grabs two sandwiches and pours two cokes and gets a smack on the hand.

"Ouch, lady, they're not both for me. One's for him," Roy points out the window to the slouched form of John leaning on the stone pillar holding up the canopy in the entranceway.

"No food or drink outside," Doris screeches. "Too close to his vehicle. He may steal one of my eight ounce tumblers."

"I'll personally vouch for him," Desoto said, slipping out while Chet's stomach provided another diversion by growling louder even still despite his sandwich and coke. He reaches for a bag of potato chips and Doris mouths _one only _and points two of her fingers toward her eyes and back to Chet in an _I'm watching you_ gesture.

"Ladieth and gentlemen pleathe finith your lunch and return your dithes to the cart. Trustht extherthises are nextht."

"Kill me now," Cap groans out loud. I think he remembers when HQ tried to implement similar programs like trust exercises because of the fact that we all rely on each other for our very lives and all. It didn't really work. In fact, I think that's the same year the phantom was born…

Roy coaxes John back in. John takes the dishes and heads toward the cart. Without a hairnet on.

"Hairnet! Your hair is loooong. It will get everywhere. I thought firemen had short hair."

I think Doris is going to faint.

"You are missing one eight inch tumbler. Where is my eight ounce tumbler?" She counts all of the tumblers, even grabbing Marco's half finished coke and draining it and setting it with the other dirty tumblers. I think she's gonna hyperventilate again.

Doris runs out the door followed by Brice. We all watch as they search for the lost tumbler outside.

"Did you break my eight ounce tumbler? I had the exact amount here." Her eye twitches. She starts to sound like a kindly old woman, like the one in that house made of candy where those two kids went and got eaten.

"It's okay. Did it break? If it broke you can tell me. I just want to know where it is. I have full cafeteria inventory on Monday and it is now Friday. I need to know where that tumbler is."

"Listen Lady, get off my back. I don't know where your tumbler is," Roy says, shaking his arm out of her grasp. She looks like she wants to shake him. Roy stands in front of Gage protectively. 'Tis no greater love than the guy who gives up his life for another, I think, saluting Roy smartly.

Doris is really upset. Gage takes pity on her and hands her a paper bag, telling her to breath into it. She grabs it from him, looking inside, no doubt for the tumbler. Gage rolls his eyes and puts the bag up to the old bag.

"Where did you … whooshbreath … get this … whooshbreath. I had paper bags in the cafeteria … whoosbreath."

"Luke, I am your father … whooshbreath," Gage mocks behind Doris' back. He's smiling! Gage is actually smiling. He loves his job so much that even helping this mean woman who's accusing him of stealing chips, salt, a tumbler and now even the paper bag that she's Darth-Vadering into makes him happy.

"No ma'am, I uh, actually brought that bag for me…" Gage says and leaves it at that.

I think Doris took a trip down the yellow brick road and bought a heart because she takes the bag away from her mouth, completely calm now and puts her hand on Gage's.

"I understand. It will be alright." And with that she leaves him alone! After all that fuss.

XXXX

CAP:

Well, lunch is over. Chet and Brice are still wearing their hairnets. Twits.

"I have a treat for you. When I was in India at an athram with the Beatlths in the thsixthties, we walked on hot coals to cleanse our souls."

I am NOT walking on hot coals because it might cleanse my soul but it will burn my sole. No, us firemen make it a point NOT to walk on hot surfaces. It comes with the territory. Self-preservation you might call it.

Before I can explain a thousand reasons why this is not a good idea with these particular … what are we here … patients? Clients? Customers? Whatever, it's just not a good idea.

WHOOSH! Hankleflamer lights a torch and sets fire to a little woodpile beneath a six-foot long tray of sand.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

Five guys ran in five different directions outside. Five guys returned from the parking lot each with a portable fire extinguisher. Five shots of white foam erupted sending smoke and ash up into the air. I was guilty of overturning the sand tray to help smother the flames. I couldn't help it. Call it conditioning. Instinct.

"Um, sorry," I said sheepishly but I was secretly really proud of the guys. They acted fast! They had that sucker out in sixty seconds! Impressive.

Hollis looks like he wants to cry.

"Yesth, well then, moving on. Truthst extherthises. I will partner you up."

Hollis went around like a game of duck, duck goose partnering us all up.

Chet got John and Roy leaned over and warned Chet of no funny business when John wasn't looking. I got Stoker. I'm kind of glad, someone has to keep an eye on him. He's acted a little funny since we got here.

Roy and Marco are partnered up and Brice is with Doris. May god have mercy on his sole … er soul.

XXXX

JOHN:

Roy tried to change partners so he could be mine. That was really nice. I heard him warn Chet not to pull anything but honestly, if he doesn't I think it'd hurt my feelings. I mean this is Chet we're talking about. If he fails to zing me, I really must be a lost cause.

"What you're going to do is look your partner in the eye and tell them you truthst them. You will then turn back-to and fall into their arms and be caught thsafe and thsound."

"I trust you," I mumbled, turning around and wrapping my arms around my chest like instructed. When Hollis passed I turned over my shoulder. "If you drop me, I'll kill you, Chester B."

Doctor Brackett said I'm finally over the post concussion syndrome. I really don't want another. It was freaky looking in the mirror each day and seeing black eyes staring back at me. Besides, my mind's clear again too and I never knew how much I appreciated that until the headaches finally stopped. I mean, I still have more headaches than usual but doc says that'll subside too the stronger I get.

Everyone is in position. Hollis starts counting backwards from three. "One, two, thr…"

"My tumbler!" Doris exclaims, dropping Brice as everyone else drops their partner like the ball in Times Square at New Years. I slam into the floor as the tumbler rolls under the lunch cart.

I look up. Way up. Oh no, that is not right! This is without mercy. Hollis stands over me. With no underwear. He has only one ball! I tear my eyes away, squinting. Oh man! You can poke out your eye but you can't poke out your mind's eye!

"Are you okay, Misthter Gage?"

"Yesth … I mean, yes, I'm okay!" I swat his hand away. Chet looks down at me and I make the mistake of looking up to a full eyeful of his twig and two berries. He's got a nasty rash … I'm gonna go blind! This situation gives a whole new meaning and appreciation for the term banana hammock!

I lay there with my eyes shut for a minute taking inventory of my body. Everyone else is getting to their feet. I hear chairs scraping. Roy clears the nuts away from me and when I say nuts, I mean …

"You okay there, Junior?" he says, his hands ghosting over my collarbones and chest. He can stand over me. He's wearing pants.

"I'm fine. Help me up?"

Roy and Stoker who's rubbing his back help me to my feet. Roy's finger finds my pulse point and I glare at him. I know he means well but I promised I'd tell him if anything went wrong this weekend physically.

Chet's really sorry. I think it scared him when he dropped me. He went as white as a … toga for a minute there probably thinking he'd broke me or something.

When Hollis calls it a day, Chet walks me back to my room and Cap calls Roy over to have a word with him about something … that something being me I'd bet. I promised I'd go to my single session. Hollis whatshisname doesn't really bother me like Fenwick did. Actually he's a pretty funny guy. I promised Cap and Roy I'd give him a chance and I will. They went through a lot to come here and I see how much they care about me what with Mike missing Beth so much, Chet willing to risk life and bum with the rash he got from his toga and Marco and Cap giving up their long weekend for me. And Brice … well, he may actually gain something here, who knows. And Roy. I don't even know what to say about him. He's been there for me since day one, like a … big brother type guy or something. I have to try for him.


	15. Chapter 15

STOKER:

Day two of the retreat. I stand looking in the mirror in my toga. Beth would look hot in one of these! Oh man, I better not think about Beth while wearing one of these babies and no underwear! Okay, I need another subject as a distraction. Got it, I'll think about work. Priming the lines, perfect. Step one, uncoil your length of hose, stick the end of the hose into the … nope that won't help. Step two; prime the lines until the liquid makes the hose firm and powerful. Adjust the nozzle and aim … nope, not helping. Cold shower it is.

ROY:

I took pity on Chet and gave him some cream for his rash. I'm wearing underwear with this toga thingy. Or whatever it is. Damn, most hotels offer nice terry cloth robes that are sensible and cover up with modesty. I ask you, where's the modesty in this? Well, at least no one would think of stealing these, which probably helps keep the costs of running this place down.

I stand sideways in the mirror sucking everything in. I'm fit, it's a regulation of my job, but … does this thing make me look fat? Well, one thing's for sure, it's made me appreciate what Joanne goes through every time she puts on a dress for an outing. Man, these things are … draughty, even with the underwear. And short. I have super hairy legs. I wonder if all the guys will notice. Now I know why women shave their legs, not attractive in a garment like this. Not that I would consider manscaping or anything like that. That would be considered a national deforestation.

Well, I better go check on Johnny.

JOHNNY:

I should get back soon. Not really supposed to leave the lodge … Any time now the guys will be up and Roy will be looking for me. I'm still a little stiff from sleeping in that hammock that was in my room. Every room at the lodge is different, supposed to signify individuality and freedom to _think outthside the boxth _as Hollis put it.

The air up here is really great. I sit under a huge tree on a slight rise overlooking the lodge after a two-mile jog. I only wear the braces when I jog or work my legs so I don't put stress on the newly knitted bones. I've tried to tell myself that I'll be okay if this Hanklesphinkter guy won't sign me fit for duty but then I have to wonder if he doesn't, does that mean I'm nuts … or just not fit to be a fireman? I don't really understand the purpose of this anyway. You can't change the past.

Making it back to the side of the road, the slight smell of car exhaust mixes with the fresh pine scent and the familiarity of it all makes me ache for the home I almost had. The ranch I wanted sold but I guess it's for the best now as I still would have had a small mortgage left on it. It was a little more money than I have and with my job so uncertain and all, well, like I said, it's for the best.

A car goes by. A flash of a face with sandy hair and glasses disappears below the window of the passenger side that catches my vision as Lunch Lady Doris waves her finger at me in a _naughty naughty_ gesture as she drives with a smile on her face toward the lodge. Brice spent the night with Lunch Lady Doris! I don't know whether to be happy for him or rush him in for an emergency lobotomy. Either way, this is Brice we're talking about, the walking rule book, technically we're not supposed to leave the lodge so if he rats on me so help me…

I take off down the road at a fast trot, car exhaust gone leaving nothing for me to breath but the pine. My breath comes out as small, white, cloud-like puffs that mesmerize me. I stop in absolute awe as crystalline flakes of iridescent opal float to the earth. It's snowing.

It's not like I haven't seen snow before. It's just I forget that it snows up in the mountains sometimes. Suddenly getting back to the lodge on time can wait. I step backwards from the road a bit. The slight flakes are so few that they don't yet penetrate the canopy of the forest but the road is covered in shimmering white powder.

"I thsee you apprecithiate the gloriousth beauty of Mother Nature at sunristhe as much asth I do," comes a voice from the trees.

Busted.

I turn to face the music. But I can't find it. For a minute I worry that I'm hearing things … with a lisp. But the voice comes again. I look up. A slight yelp escapes me as a face peers down on me from the boughs of a very large fir. Hollis Hankelsphinkter sits in a … well, it's sort of like a nest, a really huge nest with a wooden platform beneath its weaved tree branch and mud walls. Yep, I like nature, not as much as you though apparently, I muse.

Hollis climbs down enthusiastically and suddenly I remember last night's fiasco with the toga and the one ball and all and I turn away deliberately. I do _not_ need to see that again! When I hear the rather graceful thump of feet hitting the earth I turn back around.

Hollis stands there in what I can only describe as a winter toga … it's knitted wool and flows to his mid-calf. There must be forty or fifty different colors in it. His sandals have been replaced by clunky, sponge-like shoes that sort of look like the wooden shoes Dutch people invented. They're orange and have holes in them and straps behind the ankle. There's a little crocodile symbol on the side of each one. I can't help but stare at them.

"I thsee you admire my thshoes."

That's not exactly what was on my mind but I go with it because I really don't know what to say to shrinks, especially ones that flutter down from nests in the sky.

"Ah, thsure … I mean, sure." Oh my god, I should bite my tongue off now. Between my stuttering from nerves and his lisping this conversation is going to need a decryption code.

"They are rather comfortable. I invented them with my wife."

Hm, I guess I shouldn't jump to conclusions about people like old Hollis … He has a wife.

"We don't think the world isth ready for them yet but in twenty or so years the feet of America will be thsore and weary and ready to thstep into a cloud of thspongy, affordable goodness. We're going to call them Crocths."

"Ah, um, that's nice," I lie. I will never be caught dead in a pair of those things, but the more I look at them … if they came in white, poor Dix would probably love them. She's on her feet all day as a nurse. I wonder if they'll catch on.

"Well, enough about my retirement plansth," Hollis says, rooting around in his rucksack that has a peace symbol embroidered into the canvas.

"Ah, you like my bag also," Hollis says as a sudden coughing fit overtakes me. _Do not say bag around me after what happened yesterday during trust exercises._

Hollis slaps me on the back rather hard as I half laugh, half cry remembering the guys all falling down or dropping each other. They really are great to put up with this for me.

"My bag isth made of hemp. Itsh a renewable resourcth that people really thshould be conthidering harder."

"Y-yeah." My eyes are watering and Hollis removes a thermos bottle from his … sack, no, that's not a better word. Satchel, yes we'll call it a satchel, whew!

Hollis smiles and sits down on a blanket he produced from under what I can only think of as his coat of many colors.

"Thsit if you wish," Hollis invites.

I don't really want to sit but the truth is, the mountain air is making me sleepy, not in that vulnerable type way that the drugs Fenwick had me on did, but god, I have to face this guy later. I didn't plan on having a picnic with him. He pulls two cups from his satchel and pours something into each one. Steam clouds the air and the smell hits my nostrils. I don't know what I was expecting but this wasn't it.

"Coffee?" Hollis asks, holding up the cup.

I take the cup and wrap my cold hands around it. I sniff it suspiciously. I can't help it. I must look like a real ass.

"I athsure you, iths just regular coffee. My drug daysth are behind me. The thixties were a wonderful time of free love and unfortunately cheap highs that though thseriousthly methssed with the mind, produthed thum of the most famous albumths of all time. I wasth so high when I posethed for the cover of the Thsergeant Pepper abum I missthed the whole exthperienth. I regret that to thisth day."

I have that album at home. I have the eight track too for the rover. I really have to look for Hollis amongst the many faces on it when I get home. Either this guy's nuttier than any patent he's ever had or this is by far one of the coolest guys I've ever met, well next to Roy and the guys of course.

So I take a deep breath and sit down. Even if he's nuts and I'm not saying he's not, he seems harmless enough. I can't think about nuts around him though, need another word for that too, insane, yes, that'll do. I sit down and sip the coffee, cream and sugar just the way I like it.

"Mithster Desoto was rather worried when he didn't find you in your room. He and Mithster Thstoker are as we thspeak fixthing the door that they broke down. They agreed to pay the costht of damage and the rest I will write off asth a truthst exthercise gone wrong."

"Oh man, I'm sorry. Sessions don't start until eleven and I sorta figured everyone would sleep in and I could just …"

"Commune with nature. Feel its healing powersth? Yesth, the benefit of being one with the earth is undeniable."

When Hollis didn't go on, I wasn't sure what to make of that. "So … I'm not in trouble?"

"You were going to come back," Hollis replied. It wasn't a question.

"I was," I vowed solemnly. "I owe it to the guys. And no matter what you say at the end of all of this, what they think of me means more to me than what you think. Even after everything they're here for me…"

Hollis smiled. "You are healing thson."

I look up over the rim of my cup, half hiding behind it. I don't know why what he said means so much to me. I don't even know him. I'm still standing. Hollis doesn't seem to mind. So I sit and wonder how screwed up it is that I sit because he doesn't make me. I shudder thinking back to the bed in Fenwick's office and widen the gap between Hollis and I a bit more though.

The silence is comfortable which is really weird because I usually try to fill any silence with constant chatter. It's better than leaving an opening where people might ask questions like _'so, where did you grow up?'_ or _'have any family around here?' _

"Thso, Misthter Gage, may I call you John? Just thseems much lessth formal for a morning coffee."

Most of my friends call me Johnny. I don't know this dude well so John seems fitting enough.

"Sure, that'd be o-okay." I'm trying to stifle the stuttering. Every time I stuttered in front of Fenwick I'd hear his pen flying across the paper even though he still had the damned tape recorder on that made that horrible screeching tone just low enough to set my nerves more on edge. Out here the only sound is the birds and the occasional snap of a twig as a small animal crosses our path.

"John, do you like being a fireman and paramedic?"

Well that was blunt but I can't find anything wrong with the question so I try to answer it.

"I do," I tell him and I find myself looking him straight in the eyes, very glad for the second time that he isn't wearing those ridiculous glasses.

"I read your tranthscript from the tribunal…"

I groan out loud and Hollis puts his hand out and places it on my shoulder slowly. I flinch but don't back away. I'm not sure, but I think it's meant as a comforting gesture.

"You misthunderthstand me. I read it thso that you wouldn't have to repeat everything you thaid there. I meant only to thspare your feelings. I'm here for you. I want to try to heal the whole you, not just the part that the department wants cleared for duty. If I wasth here only to do that, I can quite thsafely tell you that I'd sign thosth paperths now and thsend you on your way. There is no question in my mind that you perform your duties as a contherned and competent firefighter and paramedic. But I want to make thsure you joined the fire academy at the young age of thseventeen for the right reasonths. You wanted to thsave the world, John and I can understand that but you have served for four yearths. Are you thcertain that that isth what you want for the restht of your life?"

No one's ever asked me that before. I don't know what to say. That is, I don't know how to say it. When he asked there was only a nanosecond of doubt in my mind. When I met Nina and Andy's son George I was confused by the concussion and when George and Jay talked about college dances and girls and all that stuff I sort of longed to have memories like that. But in the back of my mind something told me that part of my life had passed me by. As if reading my mind, which I admit, freaks me out, Hollis goes on.

"What I'm thsaying is, ith's not too late to follow another dream. Many young people your age are embarking on backpacking exthpeditions across Europe or attending univerthity, finding themthelves. Have you truly found yourthself John? Are you thsure you are where you belong?"

Bigger twigs are starting to break around us and I wonder vaguely if there are bears up here. I hate to admit that what Hollis said had crossed my mind but I think it was because it might have been easier just to leave the department than to go through what I've gone through to stay.

I open my mouth to speak, trying to organize my thoughts and refrain from stuttering but we're interrupted.

"Gage, thank God!" Stoker pants, stumbling and slipping on the road just in front of us as he stares through the trees from the road. His toga is soaking wet from melted snow and clings to his body. He must be freezing.

Chet nearly topples into his back, skidding to a stop to see what Mike's looking at. Chet's moustache is full of small icicles that are melting down his chin from exertion. His toga's see-through from the melted snow and he's wearing black boxer shorts underneath.

"Roy, he's up here," Marco calls down the hill, tripping over his toga which is way too long as he tries to gather the hem and hold onto it.

As I watch my frozen friends with my mouth still open with an answer for Hollis, Roy crashes through the underbrush right up the hill, not bothering to take the road. In seconds he's staring down at Hollis and I on the blanket of many colors. Cap follows on his heels. Both of them have nothing but the toga and shoes on and are panting in exertion.

"You okay, Ga-age?" Cap asks and I'm sort of uncertain if I should answer yes or no, whatever one will get me out of trouble for causing them obvious worry at my having left with no note or telling anyone.

My friends clearly expect an explanation. But it will have to wait. Mike and Roy's togas are still covered in wet sawdust from breaking down my door, none of them have put coats on. They look relieved _and _mad to see me.

"Doc, I'm a hundred percent positive I'm where I belong," I tell Hollis, handing him back his cup and thanking him for the coffee. I'll see you for our session at three."

Roy helps me up and brushes the snow from my back. Brice pulls up in his own car and though I really wanted to walk back to the lodge I can't protest getting in when the guys tell me to.

"You didn't rat on me?" I say to Brice before Roy gets in.

"You're here to heal, Gage. Fresh air and clearing your mind are healing. I don't see how that breaks the rules. Actually, I did check the pamphlet and apparently Hanklesphinkter and his wife own all of this property so technically you didn't leave the lodge."

"Does Doris live on the property?" I ask casually.

"No, she lives in town…"

I get an evil grin on my face.

"You wouldn't, Gage, would you?"

I have to admit, Brice being caught breaking a rule would be too funny but the look on his face convinces me that I can't rat him out.

"Your secret's safe with me, Brice" I tell him.

"You can call me Craig. Not while we're working, but here you can call me Craig."

Well what do you know? I think someone else here's done some healing too … I wonder what Doris calls him. Judging by the relaxed look on his face it's probably something like _Oh God, Oh God! _EW! Mental pictures be damned. I wonder if she made him wear a hairnet…

XXXX

I'm soaking wet from melted snow. Roy pours me into my room and he and the rest of the guys follow me in and shut the door. They don't look mad anymore. Their eyes take in the room I've been assigned. There isn't a normal stick of furniture in here. I wonder what that says about me.

"Okay Junior, go take a hot shower and put something warm on," Roy tells me as he rummages through my suitcase throwing various sweaters and wool socks at me that I don't even remember packing.

Stoker glares at Brice who flies around collecting up the wet togas so he can take them down to the guest laundry to dry. Clad only in his boxers Mike then folds himself down into a beanbag chair and sinks into it, wet skin sticking instantly to the leather. Damn that's gonna hurt to get out of. I wonder what kinda cream we brought in the first aid kit for that.

Cap reluctantly hands his toga over to Brice who's tapping his foot impatiently. Cap's knobby knees stick out from his black tube socks and his boxers fall inches above those. Not a good look. Glad his wife isn't here. Cap looks around for a place to sit and chooses a wicker swing that hangs from the ceiling. He gingerly sits down and leans back, his skin sticking through the slats like a roped ham. That's gonna leave a mark. Hope we have enough cream.

Marco and Chet disrobe and sit down on the yoga mat.

"And I thought my room was far out …" Chet groans, attempting to cross his legs without showing too much of his … anatomy through his loose fitting boxer shorts. Too late for me though. Wonder if he used up all the cream.

Roy herds me down the hall and turns on the water like I'm seven or something before shutting the door on his way out. I can tell he's finally starting to relax a bit though when I hear his feet retreating back to my room. So, he trusts me but he cares. I can handle that. And I'm really gonna miss him if I can't stay on. I swallow the lump in my throat and step into the warm cascade of water that falls from the moon shaped showerhead. What a weird place.

The shower steams the stall up and I stand in little humid clouds, my breathing eased by it. The cold in my limbs abates a bit as the warmth stirs my blood into circulation that tingles my extremities. I'm a bit dizzy from sleep deprivation and I realize that from now on, I'm going to be able to tell when a storm's coming from the ache in my collarbones and wrist. But that makes me feel like I've earned my place. The guys have all told me that I belong with them and for the first time since the accident, I believe them.

I step into the hall dressed in Roy's wool sweater and socks and my own jeans. The wool itches but feels right for reasons that fight to surface as I towel my hair, walking slowly to my room enjoying the privacy. I pause outside my door fingering the rough wool.

My mind goes back in time. There's something about this place that causes that and part of me hates it. Is afraid of it. But I let my mind go. The guys are right behind that door if I need them.

I remember my mom giving me a sweater like the one I'm wearing now, it itched and made me sneeze but I slept with it over top of my blankets because I was so small it _was_ like a blanket to me.

When I was a bit older I started wearing it over a cotton long sleeve so it wouldn't touch my skin but it felt like a coat of armor. Protected me. And then my mom met my stepfather and the sweater disappeared.

That sweater had been my dads. Losing it was the first wound my stepfather dealt me.

I close my arms around myself. I forgot I was allergic to wool but suddenly I don't care. It's funny how things go. The smallest things that can trigger a memory. The door opens and Roy peaks around the corner like he knew I was there. I look up at him. He _did_ know I was here. Like radar or something that happens only when people work as closely together as we do. I swipe my eyes and look down mumbling something stupid about harsh shampoo. Roy's hand stays on my shoulder as we step back into my room.

Pretty soon our togas are ready. Brice threw mine in to warm it and put some nice fabric softener sheets in with it. Marco sneezes five times while donning the silly garment while the others take deep, appreciative sniffs.

The guys all put the togas on. I take a deep breath and pull the sweater from my body, jeans hitting the floor next. The guys have already seen the scars I've been hiding for years. Roy straightens my toga around the shoulders. I've seen him do that sort of thing with Chris and two months ago it would have driven me nuts but when he hands me the sweater nodding for me to put it back on over the toga, I do so without a word.

"You still look cold, Johnny. Brackett would have my head if you got a cold."

"Mine too," I agree in a very manly tone. The sweater doesn't itch over the toga but I think the damage is already done. I have a rash. Damn.

"The sweater looks good on you," Roy says appraisingly. I think Francis would approve."

I shudder slightly and duck my head.

"You can keep it," Roy tells me.

I think Roy's surprised at how fast I say thanks. I usually find it hard to accept things. I'll wear it over a cotton shirt. But for now, oh my god, I'm itchy. I'll tell him later.

Chet's still walking funny from his rash and Marco's sneezing to beat the band. Cap's rubbing his toosh no doubt to try to get rid of the red, woven marks that decorate him everywhere on his body his skin protruded through the slats of wicker. Mike's skin's so red from being peeled from the leather beanbag chair I think he'll never look at cows quite the same way again. Oh, man, he has to pose for the Calendar on Tuesday. Hope we have some really good cream in the kit.

XXXX

MARCO:

Our fearless facilitator walks into the room with some crazy yellow sponge shoes with alligators on them and his usual black socks and a baby blue toga.

"You might notith that I'm wearing baby blue and orange today. That'sth becuth thesth are the colorths I feel today. Baby blue for mellow, accomplithed and a little orangth for exthited and fired up."

"You may also wonder why you are wearing plain white. I athure you will not be wearing plain white by the time you leave here today … your fellow group memberths will be painting you the colorth they feel about you."

Hollis opens a cupboard at the far end of the room and begins handing out … guns? And these little bath bead looking things. When he gets to Doris, she greedily takes the whole box of little bath beads and Hollis has to get more from the cupboard.

"Thesth are paintball gunsth. You will note that the ammunition isth colored. Let me give you a chart of emotionth asth a guide. Of coursth this isth only a guide, you may thsee colorths differently and feel free to shoot how you feel. On the guide you will notith that green thstandth for envy, red for anger, and thso on. We will take turnsth thshooting our fellow group memberth to let them know what we feel about them. Thisth will help get out any ithues we might have, like fear of being thsmothered,"

Hollis looked at Johnny when he said that last one, not that I can wrap my brain around all of this but it sort of makes sense. It's gonna be hard to realize that John's gonna be okay and he's hopefully coming home with us and we'll have to trust him and convey trust again. I've never doubted him. I hope I can shoot my young amigo with the right color to convey that.

It's just when I'm thinking this that Hollis speaks up as he's handing us these little pieces of brightly colored paper with little glue strips on them.

"No one will be allowed to thshoot at John here," Hollis says standing next to Gage who looks up totally surprised.

"Thesth balls thsting. A lot. They're a wake up call to thsay the leastht so you will use them thsparingly," he looks toward Doris who I'm sure chose not to hear him. I wish I had some armor.

John is thstill healing from very therious injuriths and so when you want to convey to him how you feel, you will write a brief messthage on theth sthlips of paper that I invented called postht-it-noteths which you will thstick to hith body.

Wow, how much do these things hurt if we can't hit Johnny with them? Why does Doris look so … manically happy? Chet looks positively charged and seems to have forgotten all about his rash. If my eyes weren't watering so much from that fabric softener Brice used I'd try to load as many of these little bath bead thingys as I could. I cross myself for good luck.

"No one said anything about getting shot!" Stoker yells. "I didn't sign on for this."

Johnny's grinning like a Cheshire cat. He would, we can't shoot _him_ but he's armed to the teeth! I scribble a note on a green with envy _pothst-it-note _that Hollis reminds us is in patent_._

THWAP!

Cap shoots Chet square in the chest just as Chet was aiming for Doris.

"Chester B. ya twit, Mr. Anklecroc is still handing out safety goggles and …"

Chet's eyes travel to the clear plastic bag in Hollis' hands. Each man gets a pair of goggles and a small package and is told to _'retreat to thum plathe private for the donning of the protective gear.'_

Stoker looks mutinous.

"A cup?" he curses. "Look, guys, I'm a newlywed. If there's even the slightest possibility that my … well, wedding tackle might be damaged, I'm out."

Stoker's answered by a volley of paint hitting him squarely in the chest as he runs screaming out of the room to put his protective cup on.

"Who screams like a little girl now, Stoker?" I shout, shooting him in the butt with a red paintball getting him back for his earlier comment about Brice and I when we were _surprised_ about the décor of our rooms and the attire we were expected to wear.

I reluctantly make my way to the men's room and put on the awkward jock. How do guys skate in these! Or anything else for that matter. Very restrictive. Still, Stoker's got a point. Wouldn't want little Marco damaged.

JOHNNY:

At first I was a little embarrassed that no one is allowed to shoot me but the truth is, I _am _still healing.

"John," Hollis leans next to me. "I think it would be prudent for you to put on your protective cup. Though technically you are not to be shot, I thsense great purging is about to take plathe, a disthturbancth in the forceth if you will, and you could get hit in the crothfire."

My eyes go wide as I hurry toward the men's room. I don't want little Johnny becoming collateral damage before he even gets to make his debut. Yeah, I am a virgin. But I'm not telling anyone. I think Chet suspects though. I'm gonna shoot him first.

When I get back to the room, I can barely see through the windows, which are splattered with paint of all colors of the rainbow. A green post-it-note is stuck to my forehead by Chet.

I pull it off painfully. 'A green post it for a green-as-grass-guy'.

Oh it's on!

I shoot Chet right in the middle of his forehead with a red bath bead … um paintball.

Chet stoops to write another post-it-note and I think I really love this. Roy shoots him right in the butt at close range causing him to howl loudly.

I'm pretty sure that Roy has forgiven Brice from a couple years ago when he put him through hell while they were partnered up but Roy's hit Brice about a hundred times, following the chart and being creative with his own combinations at the same time. Brice hides behind Doris and Roy runs when she sets her sites on him with a paintball gun in each hand and a pen holstered behind her ear under her hair net.

Doris is good at this! She simultaneously hits Roy forty times or so and I thinks she must have been up all night writing post-it-notes because she runs by me slapping about ten of 'em all over me.

I peel one off. 'chips are free but inventory sucks!'

Doris runs off and I read the rest of the notes while the others shoot each other, primal screams tearing through the air like a war zone. Who knew there was this much tension amongst our ranks?

The subsequent post-its freak me out a little. 'Do you think Brice likes me?' 'Does my hairnet look straight still?' and things like that. This woman is nuts. I hastily scribble that her hair net is fine and I'm pretty sure Brice would marry her right here, right now, red paint splattered apron over her toga and all.

The game is coming to a close. Hollis is actually muttering to himself something about never having gone through this much ammunition in all the years he's been doing this type of therapy.

It's just when Hollis is about to collect the guns that people notice that there are still some unexploded paintballs on the floor. Everyone dives for the floor and for the next ten minutes a much more strategy based game of paintball ensues. Can't waste the precious ammo now.

I managed to avoid fire for the game and pocketed about forty post-its for later but in quick succession I'm hit by rapid fire.

Doris stands over me.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Gage! My left hand gun somehow got turned on automatic. Are you okay?"

I look around. Everyone's rubbing various body parts but smiling from ear to ear at the same time. I take inventory of my body. I'm okay. Probably bruised but okay.

"I'm fine, Doris," I say, sticking my hand out as an offering of peace. She shakes my hand as Brice peels the gun from her grip and leads her away. Roy shoots me a look like I better be telling the truth. I am.

"Very well, thso concludths the anger management porthion of our program. Well done. Hit the showers. Oh, I've always wanted to thsay that!" he adds, sounding really pleased.

Everyone files out stiff and sore but silent and content. Brice and Doris branch off down a different hallway to the chorus of a few catcalls from the guys.

Roy checks my paintball marks. I can't protest because I've only been off the blood thinners for a few weeks so the bruising might be a bit worse than they normally would've been. Honestly, I'll wear them like badges of honor. My purple hearts … um purple marks.

"Looks okay, Junior," Roy declares. "It's almost time for your private session … Listen, no matter what happens …"

"I know, Roy." It's all I can say. I'm stiff and sore. I pull on my jeans and a tee shirt and close my door behind me. In seconds I'm back, grabbing the sweater Roy just gave me. I put my armor on. I'm gonna need it.

XXXX

I knock on Hollis' door.

"Enter," he says cheerfully.

My jaw drops. His office is … normal! I mean, really normal. There's a wooden desk with some large volumes of mental health guides, a couple of sensible chairs and a couch. The window looks out to the mountains and the drapes are open allowing the sunlight in. Hollis is wearing khaki dress slacks and a cotton button down shirt with a blazer and black leather shoes.

My heart sinks at the sight but Hollis smiles at me, completely disarming me.

"I thought you would want your thcertificate of thsanity as you thso aptly put it from a guy in thsenthible clothing."

I'm so stunned I nearly fall over. Hollis sees me to a chair and hands me a glass of water and a piece of official HQ letterhead with his spidery signature scrawled at the bottom in three different places followed by an impressive amount of titles he's earned in 'univerthity'. I follow the long line of titles to one that disconcerts me just a little. DVM? Hollis notices me staring at it.

"Oh, yesth, as I told you, it took me a long time to find mythself and for a thshort time I found mythself on a thsmall farm in Indiana as a vet before I went on to human medicthine. I'm an M.D. D.V.M. D.D.S., Proctologist, Podiatrist, O.B.G.Y.N., and a whole hostht of other lettersth that are very well and good but my passthion is helping people find themthelves. I'm even an ordained ministhter with marriage privilegesth if you ever find yoursthelf amore.

I justht have to asthk you one more thing, are you thsure you are where you want to be, afterall, the pursthuit of happiness isth the chaceth of a lifetime. It'sh never too late to become what you might have been."

"I'm sure," I tell Hollis again as he hands me the papers to sign. He points out the three x's marked where I have to put my John Doe … um Gage.

I am going to write a dissthertation on humans needths for things to be written in triplicate," Hollis mused. Thisth hasth been most enlightening.

"So … let me get this straight. We're not gonna have a session?"

"Why Johh, don't you remember? We already had our thession. In the woodth. You're not thsuffering a thetback of amnethia from Doris'th paintballths are you?" he says worriedly.

"No, no, I'm fine," I chuckle.

"Good. Now, do you mind if I get out of thesth ridiculousth clothes? I'm afraid I'm going to end up with a rath asth bad as Mr. Kelly's."

"Knock yourself out, doc," I tell him, stepping from the office.

"Oh, and John, remember one thing, to be declared thsane, one mustht first be declared inthsane. Your thanity wasth never in question. Only your plathe in the department. Remember that.

I make my way down the hallway feeling giddy. I can't take my eyes off of my official mental health release forms.

"Gahhhh!"

I did _not_ expect for the guys to be waiting for me. Right around the first corner of the office! My heart hammers.

"Well, do we need to go get Big Red and hose Hollis down or did he declare you sane?" Stoker asks what the others clearly can't put into words. Sometimes I worry about Mike. Man, he really misses Beth.

I hold up my certificate.

Air leaves Roy's lungs and he turns and faces the wall, holding it for support.

The other guys are whooping and I know they're going crack into a few beers they've smuggled in as they retreat down the hall.

"You okay, Pally?"

"Yeah … God I'm just glad that's over," Roy admits, turning around. His eyes are red rimmed. Before I can even think he pulls me into a huge hug, releasing me a minute later, breathless with a very gentle smack on the back.

We lead each other to Marco's room where the guys are celebrating. A beer is thrust into Roy's hand and a coke for me. Five hugs later I'm sitting in a plastic chair that spins and doubles as a radio.

Stoker runs through all the exercises I'm gonna need to do to pass my physicals and there's a knock on the door.

Brice nods at a very sheepish looking Doris as she makes her way around the room handing out individual snack bags. When she drops two into my hands I look up at her in confusion.

"Craig says you need to gain some weight back for your job. And while chips are free … they're not fat free. Eat up skinny boy," she can't help but saying.

"Congratulations, Johnny," Brice says sincerely as I get hug number six. I stare in shock at him.

"Doris and I aren't sticking around tonight but we'll see you tomorrow for the closing ceremonies," Brice tells me. I forgot about the 'closing ceremonies.' Sounds like the Olympics or something, the _Olympics of inthanity._

XXXX

Suitcases line the hallway as we make our way down to the main conference room after breakfast.

Hollis greets us in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and faded blue jeans and bare feet.

Our names are called one by one and we watch as the couples get their … I don't even know what to call them, they're pieces of thin cookie, almost like a fortune cookie that they break open together and read their messages aloud. Everyone claps as they're read.

Brice is the first one called in our group. He cracks into his cookie and looks up, rubbing a finger under his eyeglasses and reads the message inside.

"The best vitamin for making friends … B1."

Stoker's next. He rips open the cookie and eats half of it while reading it off-handedly. He can't wait to get out of here. "One thing you can't recycle is wasted time."

Mike smiles broadly and says, "my sentiments exactly!" and with that, he grabs his suitcase, shakes my hand and congratulates me on my official sanity and grabs his keys. "I'm coming, Beth!"

Chet's next. He looks puzzled when he reads, "Your mind is like a parachute, it functions only when open."

I don't think his parachute's open.

Marco reads aloud, "If you lack the courage to start, you have already finished."

Chet nods his head as if he wrote it and tells Marco that it means he needs to ask more girls out.

Roy reads his aloud and my mind flashes back to the face and eyes that kept me hanging on when I was dying. "Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important." That makes me look at his face. How many hurt people have been comforted just by the way he presents himself, puts himself forward and is just … there for you in ways you didn't even know you needed.

Doris reads hers aloud and we applaud her. Well, I mean, she _did_ try … "The heaviest burden you can carry is a grudge … Well actually, no it isn't, the dumpster after fish night is actually heavier."

Brice smiles at her and puts his finger over her lips and she stops talking.

I'm last. "One thing you can give and still keep is your word. You lie the loudest when you lie to yourself."

Hollis nods at me and I to him. He understands the past doesn't go away because we talk about it. Somehow we just have to find a way to put it where it belongs and concentrate on where we belong. I understand that saying now that was printed on my wall. Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery, Today is a gift that is why they call it the present.

I get it now.

XXXX

John stopped by Roy's house to pick up Blister after the three-day weekend. Joanne saw a marked difference in him right away. His shoulders were straighter, his eyes had some of their life back in them and even a little of the twinkle that Jenny insisted they'd lost since the accident.

Roy kissed Joanne while John went to search for Blister. He stopped outside Jenny's room. Blister sat in a small pink chair with a tiny knit hat on his head looking mutinous but conflicted as to whether he should drink the tuna juice from the tiny china cup in front of him or if that would be an insult to his species.

"Is there room for one more?" John asked hopefully. He knew he'd kept the kids at a distance and he longed to make amends.

Jenny looked at her uncle Johnny. His eyes twinkled when he looked back. She placed another tiny teacup on a saucer and poured some real tea from her teapot. John grimaced as she put in a whole lump of sugar into such a tiny cup. The tea would be really sweet but it would be worth it. She then dipped her pinky finger into Blister's tuna juice and let the cat lick it from her finger. Blister looked at John in a 'what the heck' sort of way and started lapping from the cup. With the same hand as the cat licked, Jenny placed an Oreo on John's plate. Mmn, fish cookies.

John dipped his Oreo in the hopes of washing away some of the tuna flavor from Jenny's tiny hands. Didn't work but he was careful not to grimace. He couldn't blow this.

"How you been, Jelly Bean?" John asked, unscrewing his second Oreo to lick the middle.

"Good I guess," Jenny replied, wiping her fingers with a lace doily and munching her Oreo.

"Good. I'm really glad."

"How come you haven't visited us? We took good enough care of you, right?"

Ouch.

"Y-yeah. Oh yeah, you and Chris and your mom and your dad were the best," John said sincerely, trying to make the Oreos last because they gave his hands something to do.

"Oh hey, Uncle Johnny," came Chris' voice as he paused by the doorway. "I uh, finished that model that you and I were working on when you were here, wanna see it?"

Ouch.

"Oh yeah, I'd love to see it," John replied enthusiastically.

Chris handed John the model fire engine. It was beautiful, fully assembled, just needed paint.

"Think we could paint it together?" John asked, hoping that Chris hadn't written him off yet. "I'm pretty sure Mike would be willing to give us some touch up paint from Big Red for authenticity."

"You really think so?" asked Chris excitedly.

"Yeah, I do. I could swing by on my way back from physio tomorrow and pick it up if you want and we could work on it after you do your homework if your parents say it's okay."

Without a word, Chris sped down the hall and could be heard from the kitchen asking Roy and Joanne if it was okay if he and John painted the engine tomorrow. John could hear the relief in Joanne's voice and regretted how he'd pulled back from their family … his family.

Chris went happily back to his room and John turned his attention back to his littlest project. He made sure his little pinky stuck straight out from the teacup like she'd taught him from the beginning. He put on his feathered hat without being told to. Jennifer inspected him and somehow it was more important than any inspection at the station he'd ever had.

"How's Johnny B. Good?" she asked and just like, the past month was forgotten, or at least excused.

"Well, did your dad tell you where he was and how I got him back?"

Jennifer didn't answer. Instead she got up and traveled to the living room, picking up today's paper and bringing it to her room.

"Mommy said the man you saved wrote about you and it's in here. She didn't seem mad when she read it. Didn't even throw the paper out like she usually does," Jenny said, handing John the paper.

The headline read _Hats off to John Gage, feathered ones too._

John couldn't believe what he was reading. The reporter who he saved at the tribunal not only retracted all the lies he'd written over the last two months of John's ordeal, he outright apologized and admitted to having taken the tiny, hat wearing mascot he'd later learned had been given to the gravely ill John by his niece.

The bottom of the article went a long way to making John think that someday he could forgive the people who had viciously attacked his character and at that moment something came back to life in him. He never knew how much he'd missed it until now. He read on.

_I can only say how sorry I am for what I've done. I face the charges of assault on Mr. Gage's co-worker, Michael Stoker and unlawful entry charges as well as mischief for the theft of the little bear pictured at the left which is listed on my rap sheet as a misdemeanor. I have to say that I don't consider any of what I've done a misdemeanor. I lost sight of my humanity in search of a scoop, spurred on by my editors to print something new that others didn't get. I'm not using that as an excuse. I take responsibility._

_As a first outreach to the young fireman/paramedic who I hurt the most, I am calling on the public to donate little bears like the one in this picture to the Rampart Paediatric Unit for the children in the unit where I understand Mr. Gage volunteered until he was so grievously injured in the service of others. For every bear donated I will personally donate a bear and this newspaper will then double that number. _

It was a start, was all John could think. He was too tired to hold grudges. He knew the man he'd saved would likely get community service and he didn't dwell on it. The tea party ended cordially at first, with the hanging up of the hats and the clearing away of crumbs when Jenny finally ran into her Uncle's body, clasping her arms around his waist. He wasn't supposed to be lifting but he couldn't resist. He picked her up and she burrowed her head into his chest, tears soaking through his armor.

"Your sweater is itchy, Uncle Johnny," she said, red face reappearing.

John sat down on the edge of her princess bed. "Your dad gave it to me. It _is_ itchy but I…"

"Well, no wonder you like it. Daddy gave it to you." There was no question, just acceptance. "Pst, Uncle Johnny, you might want to get mommy to wash it for you. She can make anything softer, even daddy after a bad shift."

John chuckled. Actually Joanne had insisted he bring his laundry over since he left their house.

Jenny hopped down and took her uncle by the hand leading him to the kitchen where the aroma of a nice dinner permeated the air.

"Will you stay for dinner, Johnny," Joanne asked.

John took a look at his best friend. Surely he had to be sick of him by now after spending an entire weekend with him.

"Yeah, Johnny. We have to start talking about that training schedule we started discussing and Joanne made roast beef and Yorkshire pudding which will surely put some meat back on your bones."

"I'm not skinnier, just taller, I am a growing boy, you know?" John joked. Hollis told him to not be ashamed or afraid of what he was. To wear his age and all that he has accomplished with it as a badge of honor and not shame. But yes, please, Jo, I'd love to stay. That okay with you Jelly Bean?"

Jenny smiled and told John that he could have some grown up time as she grabbed poor Blister back up into her arms to play some other equally non-cat friendly game no doubt. Blister looked at his master in a _help me _sort of way.

"We belong to a family now, Blister. You've gotta suffer the tea and barbies, slings and arrows because they come with a side order of Oreo's and tuna and … people who love you back," he whispered to his cat as its ears mashed to its head in resignation.

XXXX

John sat on an examination table at Rampart a month after being cleared mentally fit for duty. Dr. Brackett was pleased with his progress. Stoker had been working with him on his abdominal muscles and though still too skinny, John had built well-defined muscles. His legs were better than pre accident condition with the use of Stoker's home gym and rigorous jogging and Brackett was finally satisfied with his lung sounds and capacity. His right wrist was almost the same size as his left again. His grip grew better each day and the scarring from the rope burns were now only tiny white lines across each palm that he would probably always bear.

"How's your memory? Any new recoveries?"

"Nope, I think I got back everything and then some," John said, not sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Brackett smiled at him. Some color had returned to his young patient's face and the smooth lines on his forehead told Brackett that the pain he'd felt almost daily since the accident was finally starting to abate.

As Kel poked around John's shoulder blades checking his tendons and flexibility, John inhaled deeply, still pained from any deep tissue probing. It would take time but he was definitely on the mend.

"You're looking good, Johnny. I'm going to let you step up your physiotherapy to five days a week and start some light weightlifting, bench pressing first so your back is supported and your collarbones are in line and not bearing the weight load at first. If you're doing that over at Mike's have one of the guys spot you."

John was over the moon. Weight lifting meant building his arms and torso and getting back to work.

"Thanks Doc, say hi to Dix for me when she comes in," John called, hopping off the table and donning his shirt. Kel watched him for signs of pain with the twisting motion of putting his clothing back on. There were none.

"Will do, and John, overdoing it is a recipe for disaster, remember that," Kel cautioned.

Okay, Doc. I promise. I don't want anything getting in my way. I wanna go back to work."

"I know you do, see you next week, same time."

XXXX

John passed the bank of elevators on his way to the parking lot. He was so glad not to have to bother Jo or one of the guys for a lift to his appointments anymore but as he jangled his keys around in his pocket, the sign pointing out the direction of paediatrics caught his attention. More like an anvil dropping on him than anything else. He checked his watch and decided to take the stairs.

"Nurse Clary!" John blurted out hating himself for sounding so dorky and excited to see her. He wasn't sure but he could have sworn his voice had squeaked too.

"Mister Gage, how are you?" Mary Clary asked in a warm, professional tone.

"Oh me? I'm fine, are you fine? I'm fine."

_Well, now you've established you're a blithering idiot, try not to trip over your feet and get out of here,_ Gage chided himself.

And Mary giggled. And his stomach flip-flopped. And then she nodded to him, checked her clipboard and said "That's so good to hear," and went off down the hall. And his stomach plummeted. He watched her walk until she rounded a corner into a room and tried to gather his thoughts. Why was it easier to ask girls out before? Maybe because before he knew he wouldn't let himself fall in love. Maybe because it was all for show; but now…

"Houston we have an idiot," came the voice of Chet Kelly.

"Chet, what are you doing here?" Gage said, trying not sound annoyed.

"Why didn't you ask her out?" Chet asked instead of answering John's question.

"What? Who?"

"Nurse Clary, it's clear you dig her, Gage."

"What? No … She was just being nice. I was her patient. She's …"

"Going to be the next Mrs. Chet Kelly if you don't ask her out soon."

Gage's mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes narrowed. He wanted to tell Chet to go ahead and ask her out but if there was even the slightest chance she would say yes he couldn't do it. Chet knew how to press his buttons.

"I'm getting' to it. I'm getting to it," Gage said, clearly flustered. "Why are you here, Chet?"

"Oh, Brice needs a couple of stitches to his brow so I brought the squad. You should have heard the big baby complaining about how he couldn't let Doris see him like that."

"He's okay otherwise though?" Gage asked, suddenly serious.

"Yeah, Roy and the doc said he'd be fine."

"Well, good. Tell Roy I said hi," Gage said as Chet, still smirking in satisfaction took off down the hall. John waited until he was out of sight. He didn't want anyone to know if he chickened out of going to the children's ward.

John took a deep breath and checked in at the desk, welcomed back warmly by everyone he ran into on his way to grab a few books from the playroom.

"Children, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. John Gage. He's a fireman and paramedic right here in Los Angeles and he's here to read you a story," said the older nurse who escorted him to the six-bed ward of five to seven year olds.

There was an enthusiastic round of hellos for John as well as one distinct "He doesn't look like a fireman. Where's his badge?" from a little boy with a cast on both arms.

John wanted to say _Badges?_ _I don't need no stinking badges__, _but a general code of conduct and an admission to himself that it _was_ a valid question since kids aren't supposed to talk to strangers, led him to reach into his coat pocket and pull out his shiny new badge. He told himself he was stupid to be carrying it around all this time since the guys had given it to him but its familiar weight in his pocket gave him encouragement to continue on with his gruelling physiotherapy and training. He let the children pass it around and when it came back to him, he couldn't help but take a second to stare at it for the umpteenth time before putting it back in his pocket.

The little boy in the casts seemed to decide that Gage must be alright. When he sat in a kid sized chair, the other children gathered around the bed of the one child who was confined to her bed in traction for her leg.

Introductions were made all around and the nurse left to do her rounds. Gage blocked out Dr. Fenwick's dire predictions from his mind as best he could. It was hard to be here. He read quietly.

"You used to make funny voices to go with the characters," complained a small girl in pink pyjamas.

Gage took a good look at her, recognizing her from his visits from over two months ago.

"Carolina right? You're still here?"

"No, again. My tummy needed two owies to get fixed. I was out for four weeks and now I'm back and I'm almost all better and going home on Tuesday. I missed you. See my owies?" And with that, Carolina raised her pyjama top and showed where two small incisions were made. They were healing nicely.

"Well, that's good, sweetheart. You were brave."

"I was. Now, where are your funny voices? They make me laugh." Carolina looked at the book, noticing John's wrist.

"Ohhh, you have a big owie too," she observed. "Is that why your funny voices are gone?"

John looked at the wrist scar that all the children were staring at now. This was harder than he thought. Children were way more observant than people gave them credit for. He'd been there for over fifteen minutes and had read exactly one page before the Rampart Inquisition began.

"Uh, um, no. I got … an owie," he began, figuring he'd use the kid's own language. "I guess, just like all you guys … It's fixed now. The kids noticed the scar in his brow line and asked about it too. Without going into detail he simply told them the truth. He'd been in an accident while rescuing someone. This led to questions of _'were you scared?_' to which he'd become so accustomed to lying about. Now though? Looking at these brave kids, he couldn't lie. A) he gave them more credit than that and B) these were brave kids. He could be brave too.

"Heck yeah, I was scared," John said, launching into minor detail, embellishing just a tad about the helicopter while being careful not to include anything that would be upsetting. By the time he was done telling his tale, his animated voice was back and he launched himself into reading the three books he'd picked out with great enthusiasm. He roared for the dragons, meowed for the kittens and grouched for the giant.

XXXX

Nurse Clary was on a break. She stood outside the ward door listening to John tell the children stories. He was amazing at it and seemed to thrive on the gasps and giggles of the children. She smiled as John yawned widely when he was finished for the day. Carolina hugged him and the children thanked him as he stretched from sitting in the chair for so long.

Nurse Clary buried her face in some charts she was going to drop off in record keeping on her way to the cafeteria. She watched John walk down the hall, yawning again and clearly rather stiff and sore from his appointments and from sitting in one place for so long. Her mind wandered to rubbing his lean shoulders before she gave her head a shake and realized she had only twenty minutes of break left.

XXXX

Driving past the station was particularly hard on the young paramedic. His foot left the accelerator but didn't touch the brake, just to slow enough to see both squad and engine resting in the bay. He talked himself out of stopping in. He wanted to return in uniform, ready for duty. He glanced down at his right arm when he stopped at a traffic light flexing the fingers and seeing the slight ripple of muscle under the skin of his forearm. He was getting there. Slowly.

XXXX

Mike and John worked out in the Stoker's basement. Mike could see the strain John went through with each push-up he did. He'd been cleared for push-ups and bench-pressing for two days by Brackett but was warned to take it easy and listen to his body. Instead John found himself listening to Mike's voice.

"Look, John, I think we should take a break," Mike said.

"Five more," John panted.

"Two," Stoker countered. So John did three, flopping onto his belly exhausted. He rolled onto his back and put his arm over his face, much like he did in sleep. His breathing was controlled. Barely.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

John accepted Mike's hand and was pulled to his feet. Mike slapped him on the back gently, noting that his friend didn't lose his footing so easily as he did when they'd first begun working out.

Beth brought two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice down and some bright white towels. Stoker was shirtless and it didn't escape John that she stopped to notice her husband's abdominal muscles. She gave him a playful slap on the tummy and told him how good he looked. Mike actually blushed, testament to how new the marriage was and how much he loved his wife.

John drained his glass of juice and excused himself to go home and shower and rest. Mike saw him to the door and John smiled as he started his Rover when the lights in the house went off one by one. He hoped that someday he would have what Roy and Mike had.

XXXX

John worked extra hard in physiotherapy. Today really counted. A doctor observed his workout and the results were recorded for a progress report to HQ. He hid any pain and concentrated on making his movements fluid and smooth. He wished he'd been told about the evaluation because he'd really overdone it at Mike's the day before.

John changed from his sweats into his jeans, t-shirt and boots. He dropped into a chair outside the physiotherapy department hurting all over.

"Are you okay?" Nurse Clary asked him.

John bit the inside of his lip a little to mask the pain and stood up quickly and straight.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm good, just on my way to start a half-shift in the Physio Department. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I just sat down to tie my shoe …" Gage said lamely, realising too late that he was wearing his boots.

"You really should go see Dr. Brackett," the young nurse said. "Who knows, he may not even have a nurse cut your clothes off this time."

Gage tried not to blush but he wasn't sure how exactly that could be accomplished. He could feel the flush of color in his cheeks.

"Well then it's hardly worth it, is it?" he joked. Seriously though, I think I'll just go on home and take some aspirin and a hot shower."

Clary took him by the elbow and poked her head into the physio workout area telling the head nurse that she was escorting someone down to E.R. and would be back soon.

"Come on, tough guy, it'll only take a minute. You want to make sure everything's okay."

John wanted to protest but couldn't. He'd follow her like a moth to flame he was ashamed to admit.

Dr. Brackett stood beside the desk talking to Dix. He led John and Nurse Clary to exam room three. Less than five minutes later, John was given some pain meds and a muscle relaxant to take when he got home and told not to work out for two days. After that he should be fine, he'd just overdone it a bit.

"Oh, and John, you know not to drive while on those," Brackett reminded the young paramedic as he left the room.

John nodded.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Nurse Clary asked.

"Nah, I guess not, got to keep my jeans on at least…"

Nurse Clary laughed. "Here, this is for being so brave." She handed him a red lollipop. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

"Thanks for um …"

"Anytime."

Chet's words sloshed around in his brain. He couldn't ask Mary out while she helped him button his shirt while he sucked on a lollipop!

XXXX

John took two of the pain meds and one muscle relaxant and stood in the shower letting the hot water ease the tension in his shoulders. He tilted his head back and let the water sluice over his face and open mouth.

There was a sharp rap on his door and Gage patted down his wet tousled hair as best he could, wondering how whoever was on the other side of the door had gotten up to his floor without buzzing. He peaked through the peephole. Kristy. Well that explained everything.

Clad only in a towel around his waist and one over his shoulders draping over his back he opened the door.

"Kristy."

"Gage."

The reporter's eyes roved from his head to his toes but for some reason Gage couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed. It was like Kristy had always seen right through him anyway, even if at the beginning she'd seen the wrong things. They had a relationship like no other. It was hard to explain. Kind of a mutual respect earned the hard way.

"I just wanted to show you a copy of the paper for tomorrow."

John read the story. He sat down on the arm of his couch overwhelmed. He recognized the picture of the young woman with the baby cradled to her hip smiling. It was the woman and her baby he'd saved from the car the day his life had taken such a turn.

"She really said all that … about me?" John asked, trying to hide the faltering tone in his voice.

"She did. She spent a month and a half in the hospital. I waited to talk to her husband to see how she was doing before I went and interviewed her. When she found out what happened to you she wanted to set things straight."

"She called me a h-hero," Gage said proudly. "That I put her baby before myself."

"You did," Kristy said. "Even Desoto said it was a miracle you didn't go right over with that car when it went. This goes to press tomorrow, Gage, anything you want added to it?"

"No. I wouldn't know what to say anyway." John was tired and the meds were taking effect.

"You sure, no one you'd like to say _in your face_ to?"

John stared from the photo of the baby to the word hero written beside his name. It felt good.

"I'm sure. If there's one thing I've learned it's that people won't change their minds unless they want to … or unless you stick a piece of dynamite up their …"

"Okay, and on that note, I can see you're tired and I'm gonna fly. I have to get this to the presses for morning. Sure you're okay there Gage? Don't need to be tucked in or anything?" She waggled her eyebrows at him in jest.

"By you, oh hell no, don't wanna lose my virtue," Gage smiled.

"Is that what you call it? Good to know."

Kristy opened the door and looked back to see John's face widen in horror.

"Mary! What are you doing here? I mean, not that I'm not glad to see you and all, it's just that …"

Mary looked from the towel clad very naked, wet paramedic down to the carpeted hallway. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to … It's just that I thought…"

"So Gage tell Desoto I said hi. I've got to go, have a hot date and all." Kristy winked toward John. On her way out, she turned to Mary. "I think he's a bit dizzy. Might not want to let him out of your sight."

Mary stood in the doorway watching the retreating very pretty blonde reporter leave. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I um, brought you some soup. I remembered from your chart how that pain med Brackett had you on made your stomach sore when you didn't eat with it. I'm sorry to intrude," she said, holding the covered container of still warm soup out to him.

John was holding the towel around his waist with both hands looking rather mortified. Blister slithered around his ankles pulling at the towel with his nails, after a dangling string. Not only was he without clothes in her presence again, this time he was with a woman … who meant nothing to him … well in that way anyway. And his cat was playing _ta da, now you see it, now you don't_ with his towel.

"I'll um, just leave this on the coffee table then and be on my way," Mary said, not looking up. She slipped by him and placed the soup on the table. He spun around trying to think of something to say but the warmth from the shower and the meds made him stagger slightly. He pitched forward not bothering to try to catch himself but instead held firm to that towel. He was _not_ going to be naked in front of this woman again, well unless … and he wouldn't think of that now.

"Mr. Gage! Are you okay?" She sprang to his side. He looked up at her.

"You can't call me that."

"Why not?" she asked, rather puzzled as to why he was smiling.

"Because you didn't get to cut my clothes off."

"Oh! Yes, about that … I didn't know you had a girlfriend. I'm sorry. My comments were inappropriate."

"Oh no they were grrreat. I mean … You mean you think Kristy … No, that girl that was just here, she's a reporter. She's been tryin' to help me get my job back. You know, the pen's mightier than the sword and all that stuff? Well, Kristy could make paper bleed maple syrup if it came from the right tree."

"But when I saw you were … well, you know, _naked, _she whispered that last part.

"Oh man, I've been naked too much lately," John slurred as the pain meds kicked in fully. "Just not for the right reasons, Mareeee Clareeee."

Mary laughed and helped John to his feet. He staggered to the couch, wincing in pain as he sat.

"I see you've already taken your meds."

"Doc's orders. Hate 'em, the pills I mean, not the doc, the doc is niiice."

Mary smiled as John listed on the couch.

"John. Aren't you going to get up and go to bed?"

John cracked one eye open. "Nah, too far."

Mary made up her mind. "Come on, I'll help you." She led him to his bedroom and covered him up in his bed towel and all.

She turned the light off as he called to her. "Mareee Clareee? Please promise me you won't be the next Chester B. Kelly."

"Cross my heart," she replied, very puzzled. She went to living room and put the soup in the refrigerator, set the door to lock and left.

XXXX

Gage woke in the morning to a call from Dr. Brackett to see how he was. Roy called next. He was still stiff and sore and intended to heed the doc's advice and take it easy for two days. He stooped a bit to make his bed, finding the towel wrapped amongst his blankets. And it all came back to him. Well, sort of.

"Oh no, what did I do," he said aloud to Blister. He remembered Kristy being there and Mary bringing him soup. He looked around for the container, immediately bummed out to see it was nowhere to be seen. He slapped a palm to his forehead.

"I'm gonna be a virgin for the rest of my life," he lamented out loud, falling into a seated position on the couch. Blister was on his lap immediately, prancing and meowing as if telling him off.

"All I have to do is get twelve more of you and take up knitting," he sighed, heaving himself up to get his coffee. When he opened the fridge to get cream for his coffee, the soup container came into view.

"She left it here. In _her _container." Blister looked up at him as if to say _figure that out all by your onesies, genius?_

So John had soup for breakfast. He gave Blister some of the chicken pieces, feeling very cheerful. He washed the container and looked at the clock, got dressed in something he figured he'd be able to stay clad in all day, grabbed his keys and made his way to his Rover.

XXXX

John found out from Dix where Mary was working today. She was in the Physio Department. He made his way there and waited until she was done with a patient before approaching her.

"Um, Nurse Clary, you forgot your soup container at my place last night," he said awkwardly. That caused an elderly lady's brow to rise.

Mary stepped away and smiled at John.

"You look better today. I mean not that you didn't look good last night, I mean, not that I was _looking_ or anything, I've already seen everything … kill me now."

John smiled shyly. The old lady peddled the stationary cycle so fast John was sure it was going to come lose and she'd end up in Kansas.

"I think we should talk in the hall," he laughed.

Clary whispered back, "I think that's the most exercise Eunice has done since World War Two. She's a real dear but we have trouble motivating her."

"I'll buy her a Harlequin Romance," John whispered back and winked.

They stepped into the hall.

"I uh, just wanted to stop by and thank you for last night. I don't really remember much, sorry. I took the meds as soon as I got home and had a hot shower and by the time Kristy showed up I was getting pretty out of it."

"So I saw," Mary said. "Listen I'm sorry for showing up unannounced. Dix gave me your address when I said I was making homemade chicken noodle soup. She said it was your favorite."

"It is. I ate it for breakfast."

"You ate soup for breakfast?"

"Well sure, firemen are used to eating meals at different times. We might be out on a run all night and miss supper and come back to the station and eat whatever supper's been left for us."

"You really like your job, don't you?" Mary asked.

John cringed. This was the moment most women shied away. It took a special woman to have the bravery and independence to date a fireman.

"Yeah, I really do. Listen, Mary. I was wondering - if you're not busy tomorrow, would you want to … maybe catch a movie and some dinner?"

"Sure, I'm off tomorrow," Mary replied and they made plans for John to pick her up at her place at six.

"Out of curiosity, how did you know I was off tomorrow?"

"I got to know your schedule while I was here," John replied, not sure whether or not to admit that when she was on shift his days were a little better. The parted company so Mary could go back to work.

Dix passed John in the hallway on her way in for a shift. She hugged him warmly and watched him leave, noting the skip in his step that had been missing for too long. Casanova had a date!

Author's note: Epilogue to follow. We are near the end here and it's been a really fun ride. Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

Epilogue:

Over the next several months, John grew stronger. He and Mary dated and John bashfully asked her to go steady. They were frequent guests at the Desoto's. John made sure to set aside time for his and Jen's tea parties and model making with Chris. John knew Mary was special but he was glad others could see it too. It wasn't every day you got invited to one of Jennifer Desoto's famous tea parties.

Mary wore the hat John usually wore to these events. She even brought home baked chocolate chip cookies. They sipped and dunked until Mary nearly choked on her cookie when Jen asked a very blunt question.

"So, what are your intentions toward my Uncle Johnny?"

Everyone stared at her.

"What? I saw it in a movie once. The dad asked the guy what his intentions were with his daughter and I figured dads must do that with their sons too and my Uncle Johnny doesn't have a dad anymore, well he has my dad but I don't think my dad is brave enough to ask that…"

Gage was speechless. He stared from Jenny to Mary, longing to be in the garage with Roy or even helping Jo prepare the supper.

"Well, your Uncle is a very special person. I want to help him keep getting stronger so he can go back to doing what he loves and be there for him …"

"How old are you?"

Gage about died right there and then. In all honesty he'd never thought to ask.

"I'm twenty-three," she stated, looking at John as though just realising that she'd never told him that she was two years older than him.

"That's okay. My mom is one and a half years older than my dad. Don't tell him this, but sometimes she says she feels like she has three kids when my dad doesn't put his clothes in the hamper or his dishes in the dishwasher."

"Dinner's ready," called Joanne from the dining room.

Saved by the beef!

Mary smiled genuinely at Jennifer. Jen took her hand and led her into the kitchen, satisfied that she had her Uncle Johnny's best interests at heart.

XXXX

Roy looked across the table at his partner. His face had filled out to where it had been before the accident. He looked … happy.

After cake and coffee, John excused himself and came back to the table with an envelope.

"I wanted to share this here … with all of you, because you've all been there for me." He withdrew a letter and passed it around the table.

Roy whooped in joy and hugged his partner.

"Two weeks. I'll be back in two weeks."

Mary stood and planted a huge kiss on John's lips.

"I love you," John whispered into Mary's ear.

Mary leaned out from his embrace, making sure she'd heard him right, that he wasn't just swept up in the sheer joy of the moment of sharing his good news.

"I love you," he said again.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

XXXX

Knowing John was going back to work in two weeks, Mary took a week's holidays to be with him. They drove along the countryside up into the mountains and visited Nina and Andy at the winery.

Mary had met the couple when John had been gravely ill so had never been properly introduced. Nina took an immediate liking to Mary, there was nothing not to like. The four of them went out and visited with Strayboy for a bit.

"He's beautiful, John," Mary told him.

John chuckled. No one but Jennifer had called Strayboy beautiful before. Strayboy seemed to sense the words. His huge head lowered onto Mary's left shoulder, nostrils tickling down the fabric of her sweater, inhaling a strand or two of hair in his inspection. Mary ran her hands down Strayboy's mane and fed him a sugar cube.

"I can see why you picked him," Mary told John. John had told her what little he knew of Strayboy's past and slowly over time he told her more and more of _his_ past, praying each time he was able to gather the courage to share more, that she wouldn't see him as a freak or want to leave him.

Mary saw only true strength of character when John opened up about what he'd been through. She admired the way he was able to still recall with fondness some of his memories of his real dad and mom. A part of her cried with him when he admitted to some of the harder times from his past but he never dwelt there. He told her point blank about what Dr. Fenwick had done to him, what he believed for awhile about himself and how he was able to climb away from that with help from his friends and Hollis.

While eating dinner, Andy told John about a small parcel of land with a barn and a house on it that was coming up for sale in two day's time.

XXXX

Two days later, Nina, Andy, Roy, Joanne, Mary and John stood on the wraparound porch.

John asked everyone what they thought.

"Well, Junior, the foundation's sound. The roof's in good shape. It needs painting and cosmetics but you know the guys will all pitch in and help out. You've always wanted a place with a barn for the horses, but ultimately this has to be up to you and, well … whoever you're going to live here with."

Roy smiled fondly as his partner led Mary to the other side of the porch behind some climbing ivy for privacy.

XXXX

John's palms sweat. Words jumbled in his head but he forced them into organized thought. Mary was examining the climbing ivy, her hand clasped lightly in his.

It was like standing naked and vulnerable to every force in nature and man as he began to speak, never as open to hurt and pain except for once when he had to come clean about his age and his past.

"Mary … Could you see yourself living out here … with me … I mean, not just living together, I mean married … will you m-marry me?"

John closed his eyes, afraid of the hurt that could come from such a vulnerable position. The hurt never came.

Mary's lips brushed his, her hands clasping the back of his head. She then stood on her tiptoes and put her forehead to his, something she found comforted him, made him pay attention, stopped the hurt. But this time the hurt never came.

"I would love to be your wife," she whispered.

John opened his eyes, wishing he hadn't closed them and missing her say yes. She read him like a book.

"Yes, I will marry you," she said again, looking him straight in the eyes.

The _sold_ sign went up on the house that very night.

XXXX

John entered station fifty-one two weeks to the day later as an engaged man. The wedding was set for June with Roy as best man and all of his brothers from the station as ushers. Mary's sister and Jen were to be flower girls.

There was a welcome back banner hung over the door to the common room in the station and a cake on the table. John heard his shift mates talking in the locker room. Chet stepped away from his locker quickly as John entered.

The guys clapped him on the back and left him to change. Roy remained behind as John opened his locker. John ducked out of pure instinct but he didn't need to. Nothing exploded or spewed. When John reopened his scrunched eyes, a lump formed in his throat. Smokey the Bear was back, two fresh uniforms in his size hung in his locker along with a new helmet that was way too shiny for his liking. He would scuff it up before they took off; no way was he going out looking like a boot. Words were painted on the wall inside the locker on both sides of his helmet. On one side _'wherever you hang your'_ and on the other side, _'is your home.'_ Welcome home!

Of course the Phantom couldn't resist. Chet laughed heartily when Gage found the pair of ruby slippers he slipped in there. A note attached said _'there's no place like home'. _

John came out into the kitchen in his uniform and his friends clapped in genuine welcome. A few tears were wiped away. John caught sight of a growth chart hung on the wall. That was new.

"Oh you noticed," Chet teased. "We have to keep track of your growth for your records, Gage."

John was about to protest but his mouth clamped shut when he found out Cap had put up the chart, not the Phantom.

"It's true, Gage. Have Roy measure you once a month and send in the stats to HQ. Also to Rampart. It all makes a difference and Kel wants the results too," Cap said. "Roll call after cake."

The tones sounded during roll call and Gage slid in the seat beside his partner. The sirens filled him with the familiar surge of adrenaline as they sped off at the speed of … life.

The end.

XXXX

Author's notes: Dear readers. Epilogues are hard to write! Does anyone else find that? Sooo, I have the one you just read and … a rated M or slightly higher depending on your taste in case you want to read further. So, yeah, warning for mature content as it gets a little steamy toward the end. Feel free to skip if you don't like … steamy stuff. I'll thank you here in case you don't continue. Thanks for reading!

XXXX

John and Roy found their rhythm working together right away. The guys were a little over protective of John at first but John took it in stride, secretly – _very_ secretly pleased to be so well loved.

The wedding was approaching rapidly. Mary's background was Scottish and her dad had accepted Gage with open arms, especially when Gage didn't automatically say no to having he and the groomsmen wear the family tartan on kilts at the wedding.

"Come again?" choked Roy, barely swallowing his coffee as he and John stood beside the nurse's station in Rampart.

"Kilts. Mr. Clary's Scottish. Mary's grandparents will be at the wedding, also Scottish. So … they asked if I would mind, you know, wearing a kilt and having the guys wear 'em too…"

"The things I do for you, Junior, I swear."

"Squad fifty-one, what's your status?" barked Sam Lanier's voice from the HT in Gage's hand.

"Saved by the Sam!" Gage exclaimed, pressing the button. "Squad fifty-one available from Rampart."

Roy wrote the information on their next call down on a slip of paper Dixie handed him with a smile and they took off for their next call up in the canyon.

A woman with a white apron with red liquid splashed down the front was waving a dishtowel at them when they pulled up to the two-story brick home. John leapt from the squad as it rolled to a stop at the unknown type rescue address prepared to treat the terrible blood loss evident on her clothing.

"Now, just take it easy ma'am, what happened?" John began to sooth before finding out that the blood was in fact raspberry jam.

"It's not me, it's Lester, my son, he fell down the well!"

It wasn't the first well rescue they'd been on and John had to wonder at that … later, when they had more time to think. He couldn't help his brain sneaking out one snide, _what the heck is wrong with people and leaving their wells uncovered_! But it wasn't his job to judge. He grabbed some rope and gear while Roy did the same and they ran after the frantic mother to the back of the house.

"I was making early raspberry jam from the berries the kids picked up in the hills and I told them to wash them before eating any themselves. I'd yelled at them earlier for traipsing in the house with dirty shoes so they … oh god, they uncovered the well and tried to bring water up to rinse the berries instead and Lester fell." The woman leaned over the well as John gently pried her back feeling sorry for his earlier thoughts. Sometimes kids just did things that ended up in their getting hurt.

"I could've washed the floor again. They were so proud to bring the berries for jam …"

"Listen, it's gonna be okay but you have to keep back for us to do our job okay?" Roy gently said, turning to a little girl standing next to other slightly younger siblings.

"Has Lester said anything since he fell into the well?"

"He cried for a few minutes and said he was standing on the bucket down there and we all ran to get mom," the girl explained. Roy could only wish they'd thought to leave one child behind to keep talking to Lester.

Roy shone his light down the well, which seemed to go on forever. The sirens of Engine fifty-one relieved him and soon huge spotlights were shone down into the abyss. Lester was alive, clinging to an ancient looking rope attached to a wooden bucket. He was shivering and even in the spotlight they could see how cold he was. His lips were tinged in blue and his body was submerged to the waist in cold ground water.

"If he was more with it, I'd say we could just draw him up on the bucket but then again, I doubt that rope would hold the weight," Roy said thoughtfully.

"Well, I'll just have to go down and get 'im," said Gage.

"Lester," called John once he was harnessed. "I'm gonna come on down there and get you out; your mom's waiting here and your sisters and your brother. It's gonna be alright."

John stood on his hands, Roy watching for any winces of pain. There were none. The guys grabbed his legs and lowered him through the hole so he wouldn't hit himself on the rim. Once his body was fully inside the circular well, the rope tightened around his ankles and he was lowered down. Lester said nothing. The place was like a tomb and John had the unfortunate memory of being trapped in small places so he knew how Lester felt.

John reached the boy and felt for a pulse. Too fast but strong.

"Okay, Lester, I'm gonna slip this rope around your armpits, then I'm gonna take your hands and my friends up there are gonna pull us up."

Lester nodded. It was better than nothing. John called up the pulse rate on his way up and Roy marvelled at his calm demeanour. He didn't even sound like he was upside down in a dank dark well … not that Roy knew what that would sound like.

Lester as it turned out was fine, nothing broken miraculously. John and Roy taped up a few minor scrapes to his elbows and knees and bandaged the ends of his fingers. Rampart recommended a hot bath to warm him up and to see his family doctor if anything came up.

Lester's mom grabbed John into a huge hug and the young paramedic stepped away looking pleased but covered in red berries and still soaking wet from the walls of the well. All the guys watched as she led her children to the house. In a second she came running out and handed each man a jar of homemade jam. Strictly speaking they weren't' allowed to accept gifts but if anyone was going to say something about a jar or two of jam well … raspberries to them.

Roy called the squad in as unavailable and John stared at him.

"What? You're soaking wet. We're going back to get you a new uniform. It's cold out."

John had time for a quick, warm shower before being called out again to see to a grandfather who'd broken his ankle roller-skating with his grandchildren.

"I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was," the old gent chuckled, in remarkably good spirits for someone who had to be in considerable pain.

"Well that's good to hear Mr. Henderson," John said as he started the IV with pain meds ordered by Brackett on the bio phone.

Roy couldn't help but think the old man reminded him of his partner. While he iced the ankle and John made arrangement for transport, the man's main focus was on his grandkids. His granddaughter had tears in her eyes but they were quickly wiped away by the kindly old guy.

"Now, Sarah, in a few months I'll be as good as new and this won't even get in the way of us going sky diving in August."

"I just want you to be okay, granddad," Sarah smiled.

Roy re-checked the information the man had given to relay to Rampart. He was eighty-two years old! Yep, definitely reminded him of Junior.

John took the treatment room while Roy went to get coffee. Roy smiled when he saw why Gage was so happy. Mary was on duty. She still didn't have a permanent assigned floor or ward in Rampart but she was promoted to full time.

John hung the IV on the pole and wished the old gent well as Mary set about getting a fresh set of vitals for the doctor. She winked at John but got caught by the patient. She feigned something in her eye as the old man chuckled.

"I don't think any amount of wiping or eye drops are going to get _that_ out of your eyes young lady," he said knowingly. Mary and John both cringed. No one frowned on their dating or upcoming marriage but professionalism was of the utmost importance.

"Because that in your eyes is love," the man went on. "I'd know it anywhere. My Mabel was in my eyes for sixty-one years. She's gone now but I have a little living portrait of her, my granddaughter, Sarah. You met her at the roller-rink."

John thought back to the beautiful little girl with the blonde ringlets and blue eyes.

"She's beautiful," John agreed.

The man looked at Mary. "And you're very lucky, sonny. Treat her well."

"I will," John promised from the bottom of his heart. The old man didn't seem to want to complain about the wink so John sighed in relief and wished his bride-to-be a good night shift and made his way back out into the hall as the old man proceeded to tell Mary about how he'd met Mabel.

Roy pressed a cup of coffee into John's hands. John sipped appreciatively, feeling a little chilled still from his trip into the well earlier despite the warm shower.

Mary stepped out just as John and Roy finished their coffee so the X-Rays could be taken.

"That was close," Gage laughed, his eyes lighting up, wanting to reach out and just hold Mary.

"Too close," she sighed, taking her fiancé's hand and leading him down the hall. She stole one quick kiss and sent him back to his partner telling him to be careful.

"Earth to John," Roy waved his hand before his partner's face.

Snapping back to attention, John knew exactly how Stoker must have felt at the retreat when he missed Beth so much. Well, not _exactly _like Stoker. I mean, how can you miss something you never had. But he had a pretty good idea. If the dreams were any indication but we won't talk about that now. Or Ever. John and Mary had decided to wait until the honeymoon night to _appreciate_ each other.

XXXX

"Do you have the list of supplies we need?"

"Uh, yeah, here it is." John produced the note and Dixie filled the order and sent them on their way. John nearly tripped three times looking over his shoulder for a glimpse of Mary on his way out.

_Junior's got it bad, _Roy mused to himself, smiling. It was easy to see how wrapped up and devoted he was to Mary. Young nurses who used to shun John but secretly find him attractive and want to date him were practically in mourning. Those who had dated him thinking he was an experienced Casanova seemed a tad jealous that someone had finally landed him. And John was blissfully unaware of all of it.

XXXX

John's probation was going well but he still felt bad that it meant more paperwork for Cap and Roy. John had to read and sign each form before it was sent off to HQ but it felt good to read the glowing reports. He'd just finished signing a report when the tones sounded. It was gonna be a big one. The tones kept sounding for an eternity.

Brown swirls of dirt tinged with orange glowed in the skies showed where a company had dumped slag into a small lake. The tang in the air was invasive on the way to the chemical refinery fire.

It was never a good sign when cars were racing away from the scene in droves without official evacuation orders.

Pulling up to the plant, they were met by a frantic man in a suit and tie wearing an oxygen tank on his back. He had his car keys in his hand and quickly informed the men that all hell had broken loose on the last dump of slag. The man was about to get in his car and drive off when Gage stopped him.

"Are there people still trapped inside?" he yelled, dawning his scba as other engines and squads wailed in the distance.

"If there are, heaven help 'em' the man said, breaking away and getting in his car and peeling rubber.

John and Roy did the first logical thing that occurred to them before the other engines got there. They counted the number of cars in the employee lot. There were two left. Either someone had jumped into another employee's car or there were people trapped inside.

Captain Stanley approached. "What do you have boys?"

John and Roy were ordered to go search the offices on the main floor since the two remaining cars were parked near the office entrance.

Captain Stanley called in to dispatch to try to find out what this plant manufactured since it was listed on the logs he'd checked as vacant. HQ's records also indicated an abandoned factory.

Chet and Marco went to check what appeared to be the manufacturing level of the plant, which was not fully involved yet. Most of the flames seemed to ghost on the surface of the small lake behind the plant.

Chet and Marco appeared minutes later holding various containers of commercial pesticides and other household pest products. Cap quickly called in the products names as Marco and Chet confirmed the building housed huge vats of the stuff. HQ would relay the information so guesses could made as to what purpose the plant had and what chemicals were being combined for what purpose. Until they got an answer, everyone would be in full protective gear.

Figuring the fire was actually on top of the small lake and assuming the original content of the lake was water, which appeared to do nothing to quell the fire, Cap opted to try foam first. Every truck that had foam was utilized and more was called for.

XXXX

Smoke poured into the office part of the plant. Roy and John decided not to split up as they usually did because it was getting thicker and there was no floor plans or signage of any kind. This was a fly by night operation if there ever was one. Gage pulled some files from a drawer he passed and shoved them in his turnout. It was obvious to he and Roy that this was an illegal operation.

Marco and Chet found Roy and John. Together they searched for victims holding very little hope of finding anyone alive in the thick smoke. They could hear the foam pouring out over the lake.

Walking into a wall of steam and toxic smoke from the foam hitting the chemical laced lake, John tripped over a huge barrel that appeared to be solid steel once they got a look at it. Marco and Chet helped Gage up and they realized they could go no further because there was a mountain of freshly manufactured steel barrels stacked floor to ceiling, some empty, some full.

The men paired up and went different directions. John snugged his facemask up tighter. He could not only smell the metallic tang but could taste it on his tongue. The handy talky crackled to life ordering them out of the building. Cap had gotten word from HQ that the chemicals in the plant were incompatible with life if breathed for any length of time. The police had picked up the man who had been fleeing the scene when squad fifty-one arrived. The man confessed that the plant had been manufacturing steel barrels and were testing them for corrosiveness, hoping to gain a niche market in stainless steel durability and chemical storage, hence the chemicals, toxic sludge and slag dumping.

Before Cap could act on recommendations from specialists with HQ and douse the lake with water and foam alternately, a huge bubble appeared on the far side of the small lake and exploded sending spews of dirty water and fireballs into the air and toward the ramp of the open building.

Chet and Marco followed a path around the barrels while Roy and John went back the way they came to search another little office they spotted. Suddenly fireballs were flying through the air incredibly mixed with water in a huge wave that swept into the small office knocking Gage and Desoto off their feet.

Marco and Chet weathered the wave of hellfire behind the huge steel drums and when the water that looked like lava rivers retreated they ran calling for their friends in controlled panic.

John and Roy had been shoved to the far wall of the office. Their masks had been ripped off and they both batted frantically at small fires that had ignited not so much on their turnouts but on the sludge that stuck to them. Each time the little fires were put out, they re-ignited until Chet and Marco found them and helped scrape the sludge away.

John and Roy latched onto their friends, trusting them to lead them from the doom they felt in their very hearts. They did their best to hold their breath as much as they could feeling as though the fire had licked their throats already.

Marco and Chet led John and Roy to where Bellingham and Brice were set up. Roy's eyes watered and burned as he took in two yellow blankets covering two very dead bodies. In full paramedic mode, Roy started ordering Marco and Chet to get their water filled boots off and get hosed down. Marco and Chet did as they were told but the looks on their faces told of the worry.

Brice and Bellingham practically wrestled Desoto's coat from him. The senior paramedic was all ready to check John out himself and make sure Marco and Chet were okay. Cap hastened up to the four firemen ordering a full hose-down. Cap huddled for a minute with Brice and Bellingham who leapt into action stripping all four men down to their boxers. An engine drove over and the cleaning began.

John and Roy coughed viciously and soon began to claw at their own throats as if they couldn't breath. Once they were sufficiently hosed down they were wrapped in thermal blankets … yellow ones. Roy shivered thinking of the bodies covered in yellow. Oxygen masks were fitted over their faces and Roy nudged John's shoulder in solidarity. Rampart ordered huge doses of atropine and other drugs used in anaphylactic shock and IV's in both arms of each man.

Chet and Marco were sent off in one ambulance with Bellingham and Brice rode in with John and Roy. Roy picked up on Brice's tense demeanour. The man had chilled over time but right now he was all business with a side of worry for newfound friends.

"Spill, Brice," Roy said tiredly through his mask as John rasped in agreement.

Brice sighed and made them promise not to panic. This of course did the opposite but the men were grateful for Brice's trust. Firemen don't lie to each other.

"You're going to experience temporary paralysis. Possibly bad enough to warrant respirators. That place wasn't a chemical refinery as such but they were testing steel drums they made for corrosive properties and some of the testing material included PCB's, ammonia, and a whole host of other things that Cap's getting the guys to gather and send in."

"Ohhhh man," was all Gage could manage as he allowed himself to sit back. He was hoping the tingling in his feet was just from the cold water in his boots and from the cleaning.

Roy and John looked at each other as they were separated into two different treatment rooms.

Roy lay on the gurney as he learned what was going to happen next. He asked Dix to call Joanne.

Brackett's face appeared above him with a guarded smile.

"Roy, we're going to pump your stomach of its contents in case you swallowed some of that water that swept you away."

The tube was inserted, Brackett coaching Roy to swallow to assist in its journey to the stomach. With the horrible feeling Roy was pretty sure he could have accommodated emptying his stomach a much easier way. Bile threatened to rise around the tube and the sucking sound added to the misery and nausea. He knew Gage would be experiencing the same thing on the other side of the wall.

Roy must have passed out because when he awoke he was staring up into Joanne's face. She held his hand but he could barely feel it. He lay upon a hard table now and a nurse prepared a showerhead on a long hose. He would have widened his eyes in horror if he could have. The table reminded him of an autopsy gurney.

Brackett appeared beside Joanne, good thing too because his neck was stiff and he couldn't turn his head.

"We're going to shower you off again, Roy. Don't worry, pal, this time the water isn't coming from Big Red.

Jo kissed him and was ushered out as water poured over his body. He heard brushing noises but didn't feel the nurse's motions.

Half an hour later he was transferred to a bed. The dreaded ventilator stood by as sentry just waiting for his respirations to cease. He was pumped full of atropine yet again and D5W and ringers on full flushed his system. Mercifully he passed out again before he could feel the ventilator replace his spontaneous breathing.

XXXX

Mary was only allowed to see John for a few minutes. She had the fortune or misfortune however you wanted to look at it of knowing exactly what every piece of equipment in the room was for. She'd watched patients in similar circumstances recover. She'd also watched some die.

John looked at her like he was painting a portrait in his brain, something to remember her by.

"Don't, John. This is just one of those things you warned me about. And don't think for a minute this will get you out of wearing that kilt. You know how Mike said Beth promised him something special in his kilt? Well … it'll be our wedding day, so you're pretty much guaranteed…"

John smiled, ever so slightly, the movement feeling pinched and forced but so, so genuine. He lost his fight to breath quicker than Roy did and wasn't afforded the mercy of passing out as his chest failed to rise. Dr. Early guessed his previous injuries likely had something to do with that but the respirator was attached and doing its job and the flushing processes had started. Now came the waiting.

Chet and Marco were spared. They would have numbness and tingling in the extremities and headaches and would have to spend a few days under observation but were expected to fully recover in a week's time.

In the meantime, John and Roy would experience two weeks worth of hell.

XXXX

Dear readers, once again, we enter a portion of first person account. As before, the name of the person thinking and speaking is above their part. Let the steam begin.

XXXX

Mary Clary:

I walk into the room and past Roy who is sleeping. Joanne must be home with the kids for a little while. It's so nice to see the ventilators gone and the guys breathing on their own.

I peel the curtain that separates the room back and slip in to see John. His eyes are open and he's staring at the ceiling. What else can he do for now? The doctors are quite sure this paralysis is temporary but its unnerving to sit and have one sided conversation with someone who you know wants to tell you a thousand things all at once.

"It's okay, you and Roy are gonna be fine soon, you know that, right?"

John can't even nod so it's blink once for yes, twice for no. He blinks yes but it isn't hard to see that he's scared to death. The truth is, so am I. Tomorrow I'm supposed to be Mrs. Mary Gage. It's not going to happen. I knew what I was getting myself into marrying a fireman, especially this fireman if legends are true, but I stand by my decision. I love him and one day soon I will be his wife.

A calendar hangs across from the bed where John can see it. It's standard in cases like this or with stroke victims and things like that where mobility issues are so severe that they can impede with the perception of time passage. A bulletin board holds photos of Chris and Jen and John and I from happier times. I followed John's line of vision to the calendar. He knows the wedding was supposed to be tomorrow.

"It's okay," I sniffle despite my best efforts as John's eyes tear up. "Francis said he'll hold the kilts no extra fees, and surprisingly, Kristy and a couple of other reporters covering the fire have convinced the hall and catering company to drop their … cancellation fees, so we can rebook when you're on your feet again. Apparently you sell a lot of newspapers, Mr. Gage."

I sit down and hold hands with my fiancé, refusing to let the despair take me over. My mentor comes in and takes vitals from both of the guys. I've already done it out of old habit but of course I'm not on shift.

"When I said you'd learn to love me, child, I didn't mean for you to love me so much you keep coming back," she said kindly to John. She pats him on the shoulder and gives me a hug.

"You can bathe him tonight if you want to, Mary. I know it's not technically allowed but I'm swamped in paperwork," she winked.

I smile at her and go get the basin and cloths as she leaves us alone.

"Well, sweetie it seems I have to strip you again, so I have to go back to calling you Mr. Gage. I warned you," I say as I uncover his body.

JOHN:

She called me Mr. Gage. She smiled when she said it. I wasn't sure I could even feel touch so acutely in this state but when Mary douses me in warm water I feel like I'm on fire, in a good way.

Mary caresses the cloth over my chest and trails of heat and excitement light over my whole body.

"Like that huh?" she says playfully, leaning over and kissing me. At first I was afraid I'd do nothing but drool in return from that fresh-from-the-dentist Novocain feeling in my mouth from the chemicals but I can feel every probe of her tongue. My mouth seems to have a mind of its own and I feel like I could recite Shakespeare if I had to. I can't, but it's a good feeling.

MARY:

I know I shouldn't be teasing him like this. His heart monitors have sped up and I'll have to be careful I don't end up with a crash cart on my heels if I don't stop. I pull up gently, realizing that I'd dropped the cloth and pinned both his shoulders under my palms. John's lips are parted and full, his eyes are round and wide and he's panting softly as the monitors slow a bit. I kiss him again a little chaster this time and resume soothing his body with the lavender scented water. As I uncover him a bit more I can't help but think about the honeymoon night that we looked so forward to. John's gorgeous. The wait hasn't been an easy one.

I linger a little longer at John's waist, appreciating his abdominal muscles that he's been building slowly over the last three months. His legs are so defined. His eyes close in pleasure when I pay special attention to his hips and thighs. A pleasured groan escapes his lips and both of us know that's an improvement because he hasn't been able to make a sound since the fire. He looks at me with desire and his eyes dart to the calendar in disappointment. I cup his face in my hands leaving the warm cloth where it lies over his groin. I part his lips and kiss him deeply and he groans again. His tongue explores my mouth for the first time and I want to shout with joy and tell the docs he has some movement again . This is an improvement. For now though, he's all mine. After all, I'm a nurse, and this is … healing.

My hand reaches for the warm cloth and I slowly lift it to perform some very extensive and important … neuro checks, yes that's it.

ROY:

I open my eyes and it's good just to be the master of them again. My right eye's still a little hazy as I look toward the curtain separating John and I. I have only seen him once when the docs were doing something to his chest, other than that the curtain's been closed. I try as I always do when I first awake to speak but I can't. God this is so annoying!

There's someone standing over Johnny from what I can make out of the weird shadow puppets on the ceiling and wall. His monitors sound kind of fast. I'm sure they'll do something to bring them down. I listen but they only speed up. Oh my god, what if a reporter is here and doing something to upset him? The shadows continue ominously, the person's straddling Gage!

I can't even press a call button! We can't move! Will no one come in and save him?

Piteous moans and gasps come from my partner. This is without mercy! His vitals are going crazy. He's dying!

My eyes clenched tight, barely breathing, I can hear rapid breathing now over John's monitors, so they're not strangling him. The straddled shadow puppet arches way back, its arms holding John in place as if that's even necessary and I hear … a woman moaning now. Mary!

Wait … no. Okay, so she wasn't trying to kill Gage she was … Nononononono oh, gross! I'd give a million dollars for a pillow to smother myself with right now.

"Oh John!"

La la la la la la I can't hear them. Oh heaven help me, I still can!

I didn't realize how tightly my bed was tucked in and how uncomfortable it is.

I try counting the ceiling tiles. But that's where the puppets are.

"Ohhhh, John!"

I try counting sheep. It doesn't stop it but it does occupy me until I hear…

"OUCH!" from John. He talked! Wow, Mary's rough. Serves John right for making me lay here listening to this … but wait, if he can … then probably so can I

They're still going. _Holy hell you owe me for this, Junior_, I keep thinking, remembering what he interrupted the night he showed up early to go look at he and Mary's house. Now he's getting what I missed that night! _Oh, he will pay, that horse riding, long lasting …_ _Ew_, I keep counting sheep but it doesn't help, it only points out the obvious.

I cannot get my mind off this! All those nasty slideshow presentations they show you in health class are burning images into my mind. I did not need to see that! And what the hell is with those trains going through tunnels and flowers opening up and balloons lengthening and all that garbage? Ew! Did I mention my bedcovers are tucked in way too tight?

"Ouch!" rasps John again. Great, he's on his second word and I can't even manage to tell them to get a room; well not this room anyway!

"Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?" Mary moans breathlessly.

"No!" Joan moans.

_Yes! Bloody hell make it stop_! I scream in my head as the shadows shift to an odd pattern across the curtain as the light shifts.

There's a knocking sound on the door as I hear the doorknob being tried. Mary's locked the door. They probably think my partner's dying given his monitor readings. Well, if he doesn't from this I'm gonna kill him when I can move. Or better yet, I'll use this little _incident_ let's just call it against him when I give my best man speech and torture Johnny and Mary with this for the rest of their lives … god let it be a hundred more years.

There's heavy breathing and few very slurred words from John. Peace at last! I'm so jealous he can talk but he sounds like he has marbles in his mouth … the monitors speed up again. Those are not marbles! Save me!

JOHN:

Now _that's _what I call physiotherapy! My mouth has lost that numb feeling and now tingles with satisfaction as I continue to nibble on Mary's lower lip. She wiggles a little bit on top of me and I gasp as my arm just automatically flies up to push against her lower back. I'm holding her!

I look up into her eyes feeling her warm, bare skin as she arches slightly from the cold of my hands. My hand slips up her back to her fiery hair that shines copper in the fading light from the window. Huh, I didn't even know there was a window in here. I can't help but put a little pressure on her silken hair to bring her closer to me again, to feel her body pressed against me again. Nothing separates us right now and nothing ever will again.

… except that infernal banging on the door.

Mary stands up, lowering her skirt and fastening her blouse. She caresses the cloth down my waist and thighs one last time, and covers me back up smiling seductively still. She smoothes her hair and walks toward the door.

How will she explain this? I still can't control my breathing and my monitors are going nuts.

…Oh, that's her game.

She opens the door to find a doctor, a nurse I don't know and an orderly with lock pick. She quickly fills them in on my vitals explaining that door was jammed and she couldn't open it from the inside either so she did what she could for me while she waited for backup.

Mary's lost to my view as my eyes are pried open and a penlight is shoved in my face. Soon another doctor is in my face listening to my breathing. Oh, this is so anticlimactic. But it was sooooo worth it I smile groggily … as a sedative calms me … My heart slows and I feel myself slipping away. Doctor Early's face is not the one you want looking down at you after you've just … had a honeymoon. _Goodnight Mrs. Gage._


End file.
